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keelywolfe · 5 years ago

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FIC: Beneath an Aurora Sky ch. 13

Summary: The South Pole Station is equipped for research and Edge has always made sure things run smoothly for the inhabitants. His charges are meant to follow his rules and regulations, and in turn, he makes sure they survive in the arctic temperatures. It takes plenty of hard work and determination and Edge, along with his crew, can handle both.

He wasn’t counting on one of the newest researchers. He wasn’t expecting Rus.

Tags: Spicyhoney, First Time, Arctic AU, Hurt/Comfort

Notes: This chapter includes lemon goodness!

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Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four

Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve

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Read Chapter 13 on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

The crackle of the radio woke him. “boss? you reading me? over.”

Edge leaned up on an elbow, squinting through the dimmed emergency lights. The windows were dark, they were months away from any daylight. Next to him, Rus slept on and Edge slid out of bed, hissing at the cool floor on his bare feet as he crossed the short distance to the radio. He picked up the receiver and clicked the transmit button, “Still alive and kicking, what’s the situation, over.”

A long moment of crackling static, then his brother’s voice came again. “finally! been trying to raise you all morning.” Beneath his voice was the sound of a motor, growling along. “snow stopped at about 0400, i’ve been plowing ever since. we’re about halfway to you and the fashion victim now, give us a couple more hours and we’ll have you out of there, over.”

“Copy that, out.”

Edge flipped on the outside lights, peering out the porthole window. Snow was piled high, overtop the snowmobile but it hadn’t gone even halfway up the shelter. Not too terrible a storm anyway, the clouds must have thrown only thrown a short tantrum and moved on.

“they’re coming to get us?” From behind him and Edge turned to find Rus blinking at him sleepily. He pushed up on one elbow and the blanket slid down, giving Edge a lovely view before he hissed at the chill and yanked it back into place.

“Yes. We should have enough time to clean up and get dressed before they get here.” The shelter would need a little restocking, but he wasn’t about to leave a mess for Undyne to deal with on her next supply run. In the meantime, he dug into the supplies to find the packets of instant coffee. It was foul, but it would have to do until they were back home to Bonnie’s powerful brew. He set the kettle to heat on the camp stove. “Would you like some coffee?”

“yeah, sure.” That was oddly subdued, and Edge glanced at Rus. Who seemed downcast, the second pillow scrunched up in his arms like one might hold another...ah.

Perhaps he’d been hoping to wake in Edge’s arms. Or maybe he’d been hoping for a little more time on their own to explore this...well, whatever this relationship was. The thought warmed him better than coffee would and Edge flicked off the burner, ignoring Rus’s confusion as he moved to sit on the side of the bed, hooking a finger under Rus’s chin to take a soft kiss.

He drew back, looking into those wide, startled sockets and murmured, “Good morning.”

“i...good morning,” Rus said dumbly.

“Did you sleep well?” Edge asked solicitously, only to get a rather blank nod in return. He looked as if one kiss had sent all his brilliant thoughts winging out into the snow, Edge thought with no little amusement. Another kiss finally woke him from his daze, Rus pulling him back into the bed and Edge went willingly.

They had a few more minutes to spare.

~~*~~

The cold oversized wet wipes in the kit were not a suitable replacement for a shower, but it was the best they had, and while Undyne might not have a nose, his brother’s was exceptionally keen.

Edge dressed quickly and busied himself with bundling up all the trash to take with them, making sure everything in the small shelter was left in order. He could hear the rumble of the plow in the distance. They should be here soon.

“almost here, huh.” Rus dressed almost as quickly after a shivering wipe down; the room was warm enough but it was far from toasty. He was sitting on the stripped bed watching Edge, the bed linens bundled up next to him.

“Yes.” Edge set the small trash bag by the door. “Soon you’ll be able to get back to work.”

“yeah, i have a lot of data to process from the last trip, even if i didn’t get finished.” Rus played with the strings on his hoodie, chewing on the end of one and his eye lights cast were towards the floor. He seemed almost strangely shy considering the intimacies between them not a half hour before.

But there wasn’t time to question him. The plow pulled up and in the glaring floodlights, Edge could see Undyne hopping out, dragging an oversized shovel with her. He pulled on his gear quickly as she approached. Her grunts as she cleared a path to the shelter were loud enough to be heard through the walls and were louder still when the snow was cleared away enough for Edge to force open the door.

“Heya, boss,” Undyne said cheerily, the steam of her breath clouding around her. She propped the shovel on a snowbank and leaned on the handle. “Lose any fingers or toes?”

“No, I still have the full complement, unlike you,” Edge said dryly. He closed the door against the chill when Rus squawked a protest, leaving him to scramble into his own gear. “How are things back at the station?”

“Good, everyone is taking an internal work day for now.” Undyne jerked her head at the plow. “Brought along a restock for the shelter.”

“Good.” There were still plenty of supplies left, but Edge didn’t like to take any chances.

Red hopped out of the driver’s side and came wandering up along the dugout path. His coat was zipped up high; the cold could be achingly deep for him. “if you two want to handle that, i’ll take the fashion victim back on the snowmobile. then you can head out and find the cat.”

It was tempting to take Rus back himself, but Red had been up for hours and he was likely tired, especially after a recent healing session. Edge at least had a full night’s sleep in him. He nodded curtly and the three of them began cleaning off the snowmobile. With a little effort, it roared to life, just as Rus came out of the shelter, properly bundled up against the freezing cold.

“Rus,” Edge called to him over the noise, “you’ll be heading back with Red while Undyne and I get the Cat.” When Rus opened his mouth to protest and Edge added, “We’ll be careful with your equipment, I promise.”

“okay.” The reluctance was audible even through the din of the running engine. With Red and Undyne both watching avidly, Rus waffled uncertainly in front of Edge before turning towards the snowmobile.

To hell with it. Edge caught him by the shoulder and turned him around, leaning up to give him a light kiss that he melted into instantly.

It was a fair sign that they needed to talk back at the station and Edge found he was fine with that. Whatever Rus wanted to make of this, if it were only once or if they kept up until it was time for him to leave, Edge was braced to deal with it.

Reluctantly, he drew away and Rus gave him a little smile as he hopped on the snowmobile.

Red was slower, climbing on in front of him. His brother’s expression was unreadable, mostly hidden behind oversized goggles and his hood. Their size difference was incongruous; Rus had to hunch over to wrap his arms around Red, almost covering his visor, and Edge was forced to keep his face schooled to seriousness as he silently showed Rus the hand grips on the sides of the snowmobile to use instead.

Undyne was not nearly as diplomatic and her raucous laughter followed them as they roared away. Before they were even out of sight, that wide grin turned in Edge’s direction. He ignored it, turning towards the plow.

“Didn’t show him the handholds when you picked him up, huh?” She jogged up next to him and jostled him hard enough with an elbow to make him misstep.

He shoved her back. “You’ll excuse me for not following every minor safety protocol in an emergency.”

“Uh huh, oh, yeah, you’re never a stickler for protocol!”

Restocking the shelter became a blatant exercise in turning a deaf ear, especially as she came into the shelter with him and took in the bundled up bed linens.

“I’ll take those,” Edge gave her a rude push and grabbed them up. He wasn’t ashamed of anything they’d done, but he’d be damned if he’d stand here while Undyne checked them over for incriminating stains.

Luckily, she seemed satisfied with that. “All yours, boss, you know I hate laundry.”

She checked over the supply bin, adding packets from her carryall. “Sorry to interrupt your romantic getaway, you should’ve said something.”

“Don’t be, I was nearly ready to burrow through the snow for a shower.”

“Uh huh,” she paused in her counting. “Sooooo, past bustin’ your chops, I’m kinda at a loss for words.”

“That’s a first,” Edge waited as she signed off on the clipboard. He took a deep breath and said, “I’m taking your advice.”

“Yeah, kinda got that idea with the smacker you laid on him outside,” she said dryly. “You guys never opened the playing cards so I guess you found something else to keep you entertained.”

“Something like that.” She followed him out of the shelter towards the plow. He wasn’t about to feed her any lascivious details. Even if he’d wanted to share them, which he didn’t, giving Undyne that sort of information was a poor idea. If you give another person ammo, then you should never be surprised when you get shot.

“I should mark this on my calendar. Big ol’ letters.” She raised her voice and let it carry out over the snowy planes, “The Boss listened to me for once!”

“I always listen to you,” Edge said easily. “The problem is that you so rarely give good advice.”

He didn’t even complain when she pushed him into the snow bank.

The trip to the Sno-Cat was a short one. The plow cut through the fresh, loose snow, scraping it down to the hard packed road beneath it. It took longer to clean off the Cat, clearing the windows and the treads.

Undyne opened the door to check inside and found Rus’s equipment still on the passenger side. She poked curiously at the bags. “What kind of shit is he lugging around?”

“I have no idea, but I do know it’s fragile, so leave it alone.”

“Yeah, yeah, I wasn’t gonna break his toys.” She frowned and gave the large tube a last nudge. “This shit isn’t light, is it, not to a scrawny boy like the fashion victim.”

“It’s not,” Edge agreed. He remembered being startled at the weight the last time he’d helped Rus carry it.

“Huh,” Undyne said speculatively.

He shouldn’t ask, he shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t. “What?”

She shrugged. “Just thinking. He carried all this crap plus a lot more from the ship all on his own.”

“He did.” There was a core of strength hidden in Rus, that much was certain. “And?”

Her smirk was proof he should’ve buried his curiosity in the mental graveyard where it belonged, “Must have pretty good stamina for being bony. Heh, bony for boning, right?”

“Leave the puns to my brother,” Edge sighed. “I’ll see you back at the station.”

The trip back was slower than usual, the plow wasn’t a high speed vehicle. Soon enough they were parking within the garage and signing them back in, the Cat being tagged as out-of-commission until Red was able to give it a once-over.

Undyne helped him gather Rus’s equipment and the two of them went into the station.

His gear was only half-off, the suspenders of his snow pants hanging down as Edge padded over in his stocking feet to the larger storage lockers. His plan to lock up Rus’s equipment until he could come for it was thwarted as he realized he didn’t have his locker keys back yet. He’d given them Rus when he’d helped out with Red and forgotten to reclaim them.

He sighed and hung his head. This was retribution for his sins.

“Undyne, can I use your keys? Rus has mine.” She looked up from the boots she was untying, her eyebrows climbed her forehead like a ladder.

“You let him borrow your keys?” she asked gleefully. “You?”

“For the storage lockers, yes,” Edge said defensively. “I didn’t give him a full access pass.”

“Uh huh,” Undyne gave him an uncommonly shrewd look. “Better be careful, boss, you might be in a little deeper than you thought.”

“Yes, thank you, I’ll keep an eye on the depth meter, can I borrow your keys,” Edge said impatiently.

“I dunno, seems if I do that, you might owe me a little something something,” she waggled her eyebrows lewdly. “That’s what the fashion victim did.”

“And if you don’t, you’ll get extra duty this week.”

The keys jangled as she tossed them over, muttering out a good-natured, “Spoilsport.”

But her cheer at Edge and Rus consummating their affair seemed endless. She followed him back to his own living quarters despite him pointedly ignoring her, and gave him a firm slap on the back that nearly sent him into the door. “Alphys said you can use up two tokens in the shower. Guess Red told her something about you needing to clean off the sauce.”

“Thank you,” Edge muttered and didn’t dignify any of the rest with a response, shutting the door in her face.

He didn’t waste any time hopping in the shower, groaning at the heat of the water sluicing down on him. Despite Alphys’s generosity, he soaped up quickly, scrubbing his bones clean though not of the lascivious juices that his erstwhile loyal companions seemed to believe he was coated with. All the little aches that came from sleeping on a thin, unfamiliar mattress eased and by the time he got out and into fresh clothing, he was feeling more himself.

He flicked on the coffee pot, not Bonnie’s brew but certainly better than instant, and then his computer. The day was still early and there was plenty to be done. Before he could even settle into his chair with his cup, there was a knock at his door.

Edge sighed. He was gone for one evening, and already it was beginning.

He opened the door, expecting Red or perhaps a flustered scientist, demanding to know when they’d be allowed back into the field.

Instead, he found Rus, his skull still dewy-damp from his own shower. His fingers clattered lightly against it as he swept a hand over his head, his chin lowered enough that his eye lights didn’t travel above the hem of Edge’s shirt. “um, hey.”

“Your equipment is locked up in the front lockers,” Edge told him, “You still have my keys, if you could give them back after?”

“what?” Rus finally jerked his head up and met Edge’s gaze with his own startled one. “um, yeah, but it’s not about that. i...sorry, i know we’ve been back like five minutes, but i…” Rus paused and took a deep breath, blew it back out in a rush, “look, this doesn't have to get weird, okay, it can be whatever you want it to be, i...i really like you and--”

“Rus,” Edge interrupted and he fell silent, swallowing hard. “Why don’t you come in?”

He nodded jerkily. “yeah, okay.”

The moment the door was closed, Edge pushed him back against it, crowded against him as he firmly kissed that startled mouth. It turned eager quickly enough, his tongue meeting Edge’s greedily.

His appreciative moans became a surprised yelp as Edge hooked his hands behind Rus’s knees and lifted him up, the better to push him against the door.

“woah!” Rus said as their mouths jarred apart and Edge paused. The delightful squirming of Rus’s slim body already had him breathing heavily.

“Is this all right?” Edge asked hoarsely.

“don’t you dare stop!” Rus gasped, his blunt fingertips digging into Edge’s scapulas as he scrambled to hang on.

He took Rus at his word, nuzzling and licking at his cervical vertebra. Rus tasted as sweet as his magic smelled and suddenly Edge was filled with the urge to verify the truth of that. He hefted Rus against him before he spun towards the bed, lowering him down, but Edge didn’t join him. Instead, he began working at the fastenings to Rus’s trousers, batting his hands aside when he tried to help.

Between the two of them, they wrangled his pants off along with the thermals underneath. Edge took a moment to hastily strip off his own clothing and tugging off Rus’s shirt didn’t give his fluttering hands a chance to shyly cover his softly glowing pelvis. He hadn’t had a chance to look back at the shelter and now Edge wanted to get his fill of the sight.

Rus’s magic was the expected honey orange, all delicate folds and petal-softness, already glistening wet with desire. His own magic flooded Edge’s mouth, eager to taste and he didn’t resist, ducking his head and dipping his tongue against that silky pseudo flesh.

Beneath him, Rus arched up with a startled wail, his fingers scrabbling at Edge’s skull, pinching as they dug into the bone. Edge didn’t stop, only reached up to settle their franticness, pressing those hands flat to his skull in silent permission.

Those first undulations were tentative, uncertain, but soon Rus was all but grinding against his face, whimpering softly as quivers rocked through him. He felt it as Rus peaked, sweetness flooding his mouth and Edge drew back, swiping that dampness away impatiently with the back of his hand even as he settled between Rus’s upraised knees.

“please,” Rus begged, still quivering, “oh, please, edge.”

Pressing inside this time was easy, generous slickness guiding the path. That morning they’d only indulged with their hands, and the feel of Rus clenching around him was just as overwhelming the second time.

He wasn’t going to last, Edge realized wildly, he couldn’t, not with Rus writhing beneath him, pleading and it was his own name tangled into his throaty cries.

Pushing up on one elbow, Edge reached between them a little desperately, his fingers seeking out the hard little nub that made Rus gasp, clenching even tighter around him as he came again.

That was too much to bear, and Edge slid an arm beneath Rus, crushing him against him as he thrust once, twice, and came in a flood of hot sweetness through his bones.

Barely he managed to catch his own weight, shuddering through the waves of pleasure lapping up his spine. Rus was no better, splayed out beneath him, and each breath he took ended in a faint whimper.

“Are you all right?” Edge asked roughly, cupping an orange-flushed cheekbone gently in one hand.

“if i’m not, i never want to be all right again,” Rus groaned, “fuck me, that was wild.”

“I thought I just did.” Rus managed a disbelieving chuckle that became a groan as Edge carefully withdrew, shifting to lie next to him. It took very little encouragement to get Rus snuggled up against him, the blankets tucked warmly around them.

His wide, comfortable bed was much more conducive to a cozy aftermath. Edge rolled up on his side, his head propped up on a hand as he gently explored the long, flat bones of Rus’s rib cage, admiring the ivory gloss.

“You know something about my past,” Edge mused. “Tell me about yours.”

Rus offered him half a shrug, on the side Edge wasn’t touching. “not much to tell.”

“Then I’ll be content with a short story.”

Rus slitted open a socket to look at him and huffed a laugh. “okay. um. well, i’m a graduate student at ebott university, you probably already know that, and, um, i came up here to write my thesis, despite my brothers’ very loud protests.”

“You have brothers?” He’d suspected as much from the pictures in Rus’s room, but it was good to have it confirmed.

“yeah, two of them, blue and dings,” Rus rolled over to face Edge, but his gaze was on his rib cage, petting with light, idle strokes. His bones were scarred and no amount of polish would make them gleam like Rus’s, but he seemed fascinated nonetheless. “dings is a lot older, he’s why i can speak in hands.”

“He’s deaf?”

“nah, it’s kinda complicated. anyway, i’m the youngest and both of them have spent their whole lives protecting me. neither of them wanted me to come here.” There was a certain careless defiance in his shrug, but Edge didn’t think he was mistaking the flash of anger beneath it. Having an overprotective brother of his own, he well understood that. “but i’m an adult and this is what i want. so i came.”

“It can be difficult to oppose your families wishes,” Edge offered, softly.

“yeah,” Rus said, unusually subdued. Then he shook himself visibly, “okay, it was super fun discussing my brothers while we’re naked in bed. wanna hear about my last pelvic exam, too?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Edge murmured. He caught Rus’s hand where it was roaming curiously over a roughly healed scar on his sternum, stilling the ticklish exploration before ducking his head to take a thorough kiss.

When he finally drew back, Rus’s eye lights were satisfyingly dazed. Before Edge could decide what to do about that, Rus blurted out, “can i stay the night?

“It’s the middle of the day.”

“i know. can i?”

“You’d better, because I was planning to come get you if you didn’t.” Edge nuzzled a last soft kiss against his cheek bone and sighed. “For now, I need to get up.”

“ugh, it’s cold,” Rus groaned, burrowing in deep as Edge slipped out from beneath the blankets. He wandered over to the window bare and lifted the shade. It was snowing again.

“Perhaps I could spare another hour,” Edge allowed and Rus’s smile was terribly warming.

A wild, impossible thought came to him then; that Rus should stay here, with him, all that sweet vibrancy of his lighting up their home through the darkest months. Undyne, Bonnie, and Alphys already adored him, and as reluctant as Red was, at least he appreciated Rus’s humor. Surely he’d adjust--

No. Someone like Rus shouldn’t be trapped here at the edge of the world. He should be out in it, sharing his brilliance.

Edge glanced out the window again, then turned back to Rus, decision made. Until he left, Edge wanted as much of him as he could. A memory to warm him on cold nights.

For now, he had a spare shower token, so they may as well get into a proper condition to use it.

~~*~~

TBC

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #undyne #underfell sans #arctic au #lemon goodness

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yellowsugarwords · 5 years ago

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Walking Dead Game FanFiction - “Burning Up”

Title: Burning Up Characters: Clementine, Javier, Kate, Gabe Summary: When bandits storm Richmond and set a building on fire, Clementine passes out inside due to a lack of oxygen. After escaping the nightmare, Javi realizes Clementine is still inside and goes after her. Author's Note: okay I’m honestly reaaally happy with this one Requested By: ebimanami support me with ko-fi ♡ ---------♥️♥️♥️----------

Everything happened so quickly that the past hour felt like a nightmare.

Bandits had stormed Richmond in full force: slamming through the front gates with their vehicle. They began with open fire, and were holding walkers in the back ready for release. The goal, clearly, was to generate as much havoc as possible.

Due to the damage the vehicle had taken, the entire front half was starting to crumple. The engine was starting to fail, the vehicle was starting to slow, and the driver — now with a head injury — was starting to lose control.

That was when it happened.

The vehicle, full force, slammed into one of Richmond’s buildings, crashed through one of the wooden walls, and burst into flames. The entire building was quickly engulfed, and everyone — and everything — that was onboard the vehicle died instantly.

The rest of the bandits vanished without hesitation.

Richmond was thrust into utter panic.

Javi and Gabe were on the main floor, and immediately scrambled out, coughing and hacking. They ran into Kate, who pulled both of them into her shaking, terrified arms.

“Are you okay?” Javier asked.

“I’m okay,” she said. She pressed a quick, terrified kiss to Gabe’s head and shooed him behind her.

Then, watching the rush of panicked, terrified Richmond onlookers, Javier’s heart sunk at a realization.

“Clementine,” he said, the words leaving him before he could register them. That was who was missing. It was Clementine. “Where is she?”

She had been inside. She assumed she would be flooding out right behind them. He never doubted that she wouldn’t make it out — she always did. So, she wasn’t the first person on his mind when they’d evacuated. But now, glancing through the swarm frantically, a pit grew in his stomach.

She wasn’t there.

She wasn’t. There.

“Clem?” He asked again, his voice more strained and frantic. It was hardly audible given the surrounding cries — families clutching one another in panic. “Clem?” The longer he didn’t see her, the longer he didn’t get answers, the more terrified he became.

“Javi?” Kate asked, pushing her way through the crowd to grab his shoulder.

“What’s going on?” Gabe asked, his voice bubbling from the crowd.

Javi wasn’t listening. He was frantic, his shaking hands gripping and pushing aside everyone he could. Where was she? Where was she? There was no way that she was still inside that building. It was impossible.

Right?

Plowing his way through the crowd, finding nothing upon nothing, he slowed to a stop. His feet ached, his heart raced, and his head slammed against every corner of his skull.

“Javi? What’s happening?” Kate asked, spinning him around to face her.

She wasn’t there.

“Where’s Clem?” Gabe asked. “Is she missing?”

Which meant there was only one other place she could be.

Javi took off running, slamming through the swarm of people. If he explained his plan to Kate and Gabe, it would’ve done nothing. Kate would’ve asked him not to go, and Gabe would’ve become so frantic he’d either follow him or do it alone — both leaving way too much room for disaster. He knew that the only way to get Clementine back safe was for him to go alone. That meant not telling either of them anything.

He could hear Kate screaming his name and Gabe yelling out his questions. He could tell, based on the fainting bickering, that Gabe was fighting to follow. He could tell by Kate’s teary screams that she was holding him back, begging for him to not.

Javi squeezed his eyes closed, the sound of his heartbeat growing louder and drowning them out. He hated that he was doing this to them, but he didn’t have a choice. He needed to save Clementine. He needed to. He couldn’t risk losing her.

Not her too.

His heartbeat rattling in his ears meshed with the sounds of the fire. He kicked the door of the building in - the metal doorknob too hot to touch — and darted inside.

He slammed into a wall of heat; the wave overwhelming. He felt as though he was in an oven, feeling his lungs go dry and his forehead go damp. If that was how he felt instantly, how was Clementine holding up after being there for far longer?

He hated thinking about that, so he didn’t. He tried to drown the thoughts out. Instead, he tried to act.

He scanned the main floor as much as he could, his gaze latching onto every object of the room. He was double and triple checking to ensure it wasn’t a person — especially the one he was looking for — before looking elsewhere. Then, his sweep of the main floor unproductive, he scoffed and started for the stairwell.

His thoughts wouldn’t leave him.

What if she’s already dead? What if both of you are going to get killed? What’s going to happen to Kate and Gabe if you’re gone? If Clem’s gone?

Everything came to a screaming halt.

He froze on the top of the stairs, watching as an inflamed door creaked on its hinges and crumbled, scattering debris and ash all over the stairwell. Javi hacked and coughed, squeezing his eyes closed. They were burning, but he couldn’t turn back. She was here, and he needed to keep looking.

Forcing his way into the room, he saw it; though the blinding heat and ashy tears he spotted something: Clementine, collapsed on the ground, her right shoulder beginning to spark given the burning table at her side.

“Clementine!” Javi screamed, darting forward. He urgently pat down on the sparks with his bare hands, hissing at how they crackled against his skin. He would’ve taken pain over Clementine any day.

He checked for a pulse and, despite the anxious pounding of blood through his fingers, he could feel it. Faint, and exhausted, but it was there. She was alive, but barely clinging on.

“Thank fuck,” he sighed, wrapping his arms under her and lifting her from the floor.

He could feel the ash coating her clothes scorch his skin, but he bit down on his lip and darted back for the stairwell, hoping he could force his way through with as little pain as possible.

He just barely squeezed his way through the crackling door frame as more wood snapped behind him, popping under pressure and sending bits of ash scattering everything it could touch, including his arms and back. He groaned but kept going, running, pushing for the exit.

He could make it. They could make it. He knew they could.

Hitting the main floor, running full force, he finally got a good look at her. Her face was covered in black - soot and ash from the debris. She was barely breathing, and he could tell she was given that he felt her back rising and fall under his palm.

He needed fresh air. He needed to get her fresh air.

Then, he kicked open the front door and flooded out. Smoke poured from the open door, filling the air with black, bubbling clouds. He stumbled a few steps, coughing and heaving as oxygen entered his lungs. He could tell his jostling was stirring the girl in his arms, but he couldn’t help it. He could barely hold on.

“Javi!” He heard cried in the distance. People were coming to help. He would be okay. Clementine would be okay.

Javi slowed his running and slumped to his knees, cradling Clementine close to his thumping, heaving chest. He could feel her shifting, her own throat bubbling out heaves of smoke to drink in fresh air. He held her tighter.

“Javi oh my God,” a voice said. Feeling a touch on his burnt shoulders — the familiar tenderness — he knew it was Kate.

“Help her,” he heaved, the words tumbling into a cough. “Clementine, help Clementine.”

In an instant, he could feel a shift in the weight in his arms. He blinked, tears due to smoke clouding his vision, but not enough that he wasn’t able to see Gabe at Clementine’s side, eyes wide and arms frantic, clinging to her as Richmond people lifted her away.

“Javi,” Kate whispered.

Javi waved a palm, adjusted his spot on the ground. “I’m fine,”

“Lie down.”

“She’s fine.”

“Javi, please lie down.”

He obeyed, but barely realized he was doing it. He was too focused on how nice the cool breeze felt on his cheeks, how sweet the air felt in his lungs, how nice Kate’s fingers felt easing him to the ground.

“Clem's okay?” Javi asked.

Kate paused from opening the water bottle in her pocket to stare at him. Barely, he could make out tears in her eyes, but they weren’t the same as his. Hers weren’t due to burning, they were due to sorrow and gratitude. “Yes,” her voice wavered. “She’s safe, Javi. You saved her.”

Javi coughed and sat up, weakly reaching out as Kate wrapped an arm around him and slipped the bottle into one of his burned hands. “Thank God,” he sighed, taking a long, desperate drink. He paused halfway through to sputter and cough, but continued once he’d regained composure.

There, studying him, Kate felt a sweep of pride. She glanced up, watching as two of Richmond’s adults were doing the same to Clementine — passing her water and assisting with her breathing. Gabe was holding one of her hands, brushing the panicked tears away from his eyes, squeezing her as tightly as he safely could.

It was Javi who taught him that: to be caring and selfless, to love recklessly and unapologetically. Glancing down, Kate noticed that Javi’s gaze had drifted the same way, sweet tears rolling as he studied the scene.

“She’s safe,” Javi whispered, a sob bubbling in his chest.

Kate squeezed him closer. “Thanks to you,” she hushed.

They weren’t going to lose another girl. Not this time. Not today. If they could help it, not ever. ---------♥️♥️♥️----------

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escapefromarchoncastle · 5 years ago

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Chapter One – Archon Castle Is Not What It Seems

Terry trudged up the gravel path, already dreading Archon Castle was not going to live up to the promotional material. The ravens and vultures, perched like Halloween ornaments on a sprawling oak tree, looked embarrassingly fake. Bald patches of black plastic gleamed between the glued-on feathers. He should have figured. His parents had warned him. At fifteen, he was no longer a child. It was stupid to believe magic existed outside of camera tricks and CGI. Yet he held onto a fraying thread of hope, the same way he had with Santa Claus each Christmas until he was nearly in middle school.

A caw loud as a falcon’s screech startled him. He stopped at the edge of the trail and gawked up. The blackbirds had come alive. They fluttered their wings, still looking a bit mangy. They stared down at him as if they were sizing up their next meal. Terry continued walking, more slowly now, and glancing over his shoulder at each odd sound in the woods. None of the other hundred-odd kids traipsing along the same trail appeared at all spooked. They all had eager expressions on their faces, eyes wide as if they’d never seen trees in their wild habitat before.

The stone walls of the castle came into view above the canopy of evergreen trees. Terry felt his breath sucking deep into his lungs at the imposing sight. Archon Castle sat atop a black, craggy cliff, menacing and ancient. Clouds had gathered overhead. Mist swirled around. He came around a bend and trail ended at a drawbridge flanked by a pair of watchtowers. The top of a turret beyond had crumbled as if a bad-tempered giant had kicked at it. Even after studying countless pictures online, Terry still found it hard to believe such a castle existed in West Virginia of all places. It looked as though it belonged off the coast of Ireland or had come from another realm.

A large boy bumped against Terry. Terry did his best to ignore him as he bumped against him a second time. Probably Chad. Terry’d noticed him in the parking lot earlier, picking a fight with an Asian boy until his dad called him away. Again he found himself staring at the castle, filled with an uncanny sensation he was being drawn into another time and place. The walls looked so ancient. Rock had crumbled away from the narrow arrow slits. Most of the tiles on top of the watchtowers were cracked or missing. The wooden timbers used for the drawbridge must be over a thousand years old. The trail turned sharply and descended again. The castle was no longer in their view.

“Hey. You.”

Sweat trickled down Terry’s spine as he braved a glance. Chad’s eyes were locked on someone else thankfully, a small blond boy with a bad haircut. Terry froze, unsure what to do. He wasn’t one to take on bullies, but this kid was half Chad's size. Terry's hands curled into fists. His fingers flexed. He used to be the little guy everyone had picked on but he’d grown quite a bit since the seventh grade. Chad wasn’t that big; he could take him. Terry had fantasized, repeatedly, of exactly this scenario where he’d seize the bully by his shoulder, force him around, and land a hard boxer’s punch to knock him out cold.

Paralyzed with indecision, he watched Chad grab onto the boy’s yellow tennis shirt and pull it over his head. The boy went to head-butt him, missed, and plowed into a red-haired girl. Enraged, she let out a shriek and tore at both of them, her fingers like bared claws. Terry ducked away from the melee and stood on the grass verge. He was about to pull Chad off the boy when a man in long black robes fluttered up to them.

“ENOUGH!” the man roared, grabbing Chad by the scruff of his hoodie. “Any more of this and you won’t be wondering whether this castle has a dungeon.”

Chad went pale. His body quivered. Eyes bugged out, he stammered, “Y-y-yeah. S-suh-sir.”

The blond boy pulled his yellow shirt back down, smoothed his hair, and gulped as if he were staring into the face of Death. “I’m sorry mister.”

The scuffle was over. Terry’s chance at a moment of glory had passed. Disappointed and yet also relieved, he secured the strap of his backpack against his shoulder and got back on the gravel trail. The man in black was gone as quickly as he’d appeared. Chad and some of the others craned their heads around, brows furrowed, until someone pointed out a shadow slinking through the trees. The tall dark figure was moving way too fast and smoothly for it to be a person running. Terry's skin flushed with excitement––the man was flying! He was only a foot or two off the ground, but still, he was skimming into the woods like a hovercraft.

The trail veered upward again. Terry wondered if they were ever going to reach the gates. The last he’d glimpsed, the castle had looked so close and now he could see nothing again but pine and fir trees.

“Oh my God, this is Archon Castle?” a girl’s dismayed voice cried somewhere up ahead. “What a dump!”

Terry caught up with her at the top of the hill and stared ahead, dismayed. She wasn’t kidding. To say this castle was in disrepair was like saying a bombed-out ruin just needed a little fixing up. The entire western wall had crumbled to rubble. The castle still looked as if it had been built much earlier than the mid-1800s, and had been under siege for most of it.

He gulped and eyed the sagging roof of the keep. He’d seen abandoned farmhouses in better condition. The gatehouse was even more dilapidated. The tower on the left had partially collapsed. The timbers keeping the tower on the right propped up looked about as sturdy as twigs for a hermit shack. A sewer-like stench wafted into his nostrils. The stink was coming from the swampy, algae-filled moat.

“May I have your attention!” a surly voice called. Different from the one who’d broken up that fight. Everyone huddled together, keeping their distance from the figure in front of the gatehouse. He also wore a black cloak, his face hidden in the shadows of his hood. His arms were raised up high so that he formed the shape of a cross. He looked more like the figure of Death than a wizard. All he was missing was a scythe. “Once you have passed onto the grounds of Archon castle, you will be unable to leave before summer end. I strongly advise anyone wishing to turn back, to do so now.”

A boy on Terry’s left raised his hand.

“Yes?”

The boy gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Do we get a refund, sir?”

“NO.”

Terry was torn. All his life he’d dreamt of becoming a wizard. Yet his parents were practical people, who stressed the importance of having a backup plan no matter what dreams you aspired to. Although not quite ready to let go of his childish fantasies, he did have an alternative career in mind. He’d be a journalist. That way if he failed at becoming a wizard this summer, he’d have a good story to write about. His Uncle Pete said the boilerplate non-disclosure form Terry’d had to sign was bull-puckey. If he turned back now, he’d have nothing. He watched Chad whisper to the one asking about the refund.

More loudly Chad said, “Only welfare cases think ten grand is a lot of money. Let’s blow this joint!” Chad patted the boy’s shoulder and the two of them began jogging back down the trail. It figured, bullies were always the biggest wimps. Another two dozen or so followed.

“Good riddance,” a dark haired girl whispered in a singsong voice to no one in particular. “The fewer people who go inside, the higher my own chance of becoming an initiate.”

She had a point. She began striding forward and Terry followed her onto the drawbridge. A sharp, cracking sound sent stabs of terror into his chest as a plank gave way beneath his foot. He stumbled onto a sturdier plank, and stayed put until his heart was no longer pounding against his rib-cage. He looked down. Through a gap between two rotting planks, he could see rusted spikes jutting out of the algae below. He also caught sight of an odd ripple on the surface near a patch of lily pads.

“Oh my, that was close,” the girl said. She, too, was staring down at the spikes. She looked up at Terry, wide-eyed. She grinned, her face flushed with excitement. “We nearly died!”

“Um, yes,” he said for the sake of saying something. He looked up, and immediately regretted doing so. The bottom of the portcullis suspended in the archway he was passing under had spikes like iron teeth about to chomp down on them.

“What are those holes up there?” She pointed at a series of charred holes in the ceiling, each about a foot in diameter.

“Murder holes,” Terry answered. “If invaders managed to storm the gates, soldiers would pour cauldrons of boiling oil onto them.”

“What a way to go!” She made sure to avoid walking directly under any large holes the rest of the way. So did Terry. Archon Castle was definitely creepy—it felt creepy—and not in a good way like a haunted house theme park, but in a bad way like a car following at a walking pace just a few feet behind.

The girl continued along, testing her weight on each plank before stepping onto it fully. Terry followed right behind her. Being heavier, he had to be even more careful going across. He’s already had one break from under him. He glanced over his shoulder and figured they were halfway along. Several had already given and were heading back up the trail.

Terry was tempted to join them. But this might be his only chance to learn any form of magic, the only place that mysterious online message had said it existed. Real magic was supposed to be scary. In the material that had accompanied his application forms, the first line explicitly stated that this camp was not for the faint of heart. And, according to Uncle Pete, the waivers his parents had had to sign assuring Archon Castle LLC that Terry was in good health, were ironclad.

He edged forward, tensing with each step and then breathing a sigh of relief as the boards held. Rusty chains creaked. The drawbridge shuddered beneath his feet. Behind him, a voice called, “Get a move on!” They were raising the bridge already! Terry leapt along the firmest looking planks until he was safely on solid ground again. Others pressed against him as they were herded into a courtyard. The drawbridge was rising more quickly now. He watched at least two dozen kids clamber back over it with the desperation of last-minute Christmas shoppers. Fighting the urge to follow them, he reminded himself that the more people who chickened out, the fewer he’d have to compete with.

The drawbridge closed with a thud. The ground shook like a small earthquake. He even felt that same queer liquid sensation under his feet that he'd experienced back home in California a few times.

Dreading whatever he’d just gotten himself into, he turned to face the castle. And gasped. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, and gawked around in amazement. The surrounding buildings now looked as though they’d been created for a theme park they were in such good condition! The massive rectangular keep stood tall and proud, weathered just enough to assure Terry it was nearly two centuries old. The whitewashed plaster on the rambling Tudor-style buildings to his left gleamed in the noonday sun. The earlier decrepitude must have been an illusion to frighten away the weak-willed. Pride swelled him at the thought he may have passed his first test, though it deflated just as quickly.

“Form a line side by side!” a deep voice barked. A hand gripped Terry’s shoulder, icy through the thick fabric of his t-shirt. The man was an Adept, dressed in a crimson silk robe with gold stars embossed along the hem. A shadow fell over Terry and cool, slippery fabric slid down over his head and arms. He was then jerked around and shoved next to a girl in a light blue robe. The same dark-haired girl who’d been in front of him as they crossed the drawbridge. Terry looked down to see he was now wearing a similar robe.

“Why does it have to be blue?” she mumbled, bunching the fabric in her fists. On her feet she wore a pair of pink and white polka dot flip flops. “Blue is a boy’s colour.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Terry said. “My sister’s favourite colour is a light—”

“QUIET!” the same Adept who’d grabbed his shoulder yelled. “Everyone form a line.”

Terry stood behind the girl. The Adept snatched his shoulders again and made him stand next to her. “A side by side line.”

“Wouldn’t that be a row?” She jerked back as if she’d been slapped across her face, yet the Adept’s hand hadn’t moved anywhere near her. She scowled, rubbed her cheek, and glowered at Terry.

“It wasn’t me.” Terry waited until the Adept was out of earshot. “I think he used his Astral hand on you.” He tried to remember what else he’d read about Astral combat. Everything he’d brushed up on the past few weeks was beginning to blur.

“This place is awfully sexist,” she whispered and Terry nodded. Whenever that word came up he’d been trained from early childhood to nod and say nothing. “I only see ten other girls here. Fifteen at most. Though you did make a good point about blue. Cerulean is a lovely shade. And so is lapis lazuli.”

Already she was getting on his nerves. Hoping she’d take a hint, Terry fixed his gaze at the row of Adepts assembling across from them. They stood at the base of a square stone tower that dwarfed everyone in the courtyard. A portly Master Adept, in a burgundy robe covered in gold and black squiggly marks, stepped forward. He pulled back his hood. He had jowls like a St. Bernard and wisps of white hair sprung from his head in a feathery crown. “Welcome to Wizard Camp,” he said. His voice sounded like a bulldozer with engine trouble. “As you may already be aware, I am Quindalore the Querulous, Learned Master Adept of the Order of Nine.”

An Adept behind Quindalore coughed lightly into his fist. According to Archon Castle’s own website, the Order of Nine was down to seven. The fate of the missing two was unknown. According to a thread on the unofficial Archon Castle forum, one of the Order had ascended into a Being of Pure Light and Energy, while another claimed he’d run off with an underage neophyte. Terry knew what underage implied, but not neophyte, though he assumed it was equally as lurid.

“Presently,” Master Adept Quindalore said, “there are a hundred and six of you joining us today, of which three will be invited to become Initiates. Initiation is the first step on the path to becoming a wizard proper. Sixty-eight of you, so far, turned back at the drawbridge.”

Everyone chuckled uncomfortably like someone had just farted during a funeral speech. Terry glanced around, dismayed. With everyone massed together, he realised how terrible his odds actually were. Roughly two percent. Then again, if everyone was able to grasp the true odds of success in any endeavour, no one would take risks.

Quindalore continued, “During the next two months you will learn basic spell casting, rune reading, dowsing and divining, and, before anyone asks, there will be no handling any wands.”

“Do we get to summon demons?” a voice piped up. A boy around ten or eleven, with a blond pudding bowl haircut, grinned eagerly. The collar of his canary-yellow t-shirt poked from under his blue robe. The boy Chad had been bullying.

“NO!” There wasn’t much force behind Quindalore’s voice, but the volume was deafening.

Terry gulped. He had questions, loads of questions, and decided it would be wiser to let other kids do the asking.

“For the time being you will each be assigned a group number. The Adept in charge of your group will show you to your sleeping quarters. We will meet back here in precisely half an hour for your orienteering session.”

Orienteering session didn’t sound frightening; it was the sort of thing his dad did for a living. But it was the way Quindalore had said it that made the hairs of his arms stand on end.

The poppy-robed Adepts split apart. They each carried an iron cauldron hanging from the crooks of their arms with the ease of an empty picnic basket. Super-human strength would be cool to learn, Terry thought. His parents had bought him a weight set, but he kept forgetting to use them.

The Adepts proceeded to take slips of paper out from their cauldrons, pinning one to each of the blue robes nearest them.

“I wonder how they select us,” the girl next to Terry said. “We’re being assigned different numbers.” She had fine brownish-black hair that went past her shoulders and a nearly perfect profile. He hated when he noticed such things in a girl. Especially ones who got on his nerves.

Leaning close enough for him to smell the strawberry scent of her hair, she rasped, “Matching vibrational energy, do you think? Or maybe they can see auras in broad daylight!”

Terry said nothing. He had no idea what vibrational energy involved and didn’t want her thinking he was stupid. Besides, he doubted there was any deliberate selection process at all. Each adept was speeding through with the efficiency of a factory production line. Once they were done, Terry and the girl looked down, then they looked at each other.

“We’ve been assigned the same number. But it had been different Adepts who had …” She stared off, as if she’d seen the first crack in what she’d always thought was solid ground beneath her feet and was afraid to check if it was widening. Terry didn’t care; he was just happy he’d been assigned a lucky number. Nothing was luckier than seven, surely.

“Number sevens, follow me!” A female adept with close-set eyes signalled to them and marched towards a set of low stone buildings beyond the square tower. A couple of reddish horses with black manes were tied to a post near the side entrance. One of them snorted and stamped its hoof as Terry filed after the other twenty-odd kids into the building. The coolness after the hot noonday sun was refreshing but inside it was damp, dark, and reeked of manure.

They were led past a maze of horse stalls into a large, rectangular room with stone walls and a peaked wood ceiling. Sunlight slanted in through high, small windows, giving the place a subterranean feel. Here the stench of manure wasn't as overpowering, more like a room where people had been smoking cigars the night before and figured opening one window a crack was enough to air the place out. The stink was bearable.

The Adept turned on a switch next to the entrance. Floodlights attached to the wooden beams above flickered as if each of them wanted to keep hitting the snooze button before finally getting up and doing their job of illuminating the room.

“Oh no,” Terry said in a hushed voice as he looked around. Surely their beds weren't going to be ... blankets on top of bales of straw? He already knew he'd be sleeping in far less comfort than he was accustomed to. It wasn’t canopied feather beds he’d been expecting. But he was positive one of the online pictures had showed rows of hammocks, and in another he’d seen cosy little cots similar to ones in his grandfather’s summer cottage. These accommodations were what tourist brochures worldwide described as rustic, looking wonderfully quaint until you got there and discovered half the walls were missing.

He blinked and rubbed his eyes. Unlike after the drawbridge had closed, nothing changed. All the beds consisted of three bales of straw secured together with thick twine. A pair of scratchy-looking burlap blankets lay folded on top of each one. At the foot of each––he was loath to call them beds––was a slab of rough wood. No pillow, no storage box, and what if it got cold at night?

"No pillows?" the girl next to him whined.

The Adept traced a vaguely figure eight symbol in the air with her index finger.

"ALL RIGHT THEN," her voice boomed, shaking the rafters. She traced something else in the air and more quietly said, "One cot per person. Later this afternoon, leftover apple crates will be arriving for you to store your things in."

The same boy who'd asked about Demon summoning went up to her. "Which one's mine?"

"Any of them—just choose one per person," she said in the same irritated tone of voice his sister would use whenever she was waiting for some boy to call her back. “You neophytes get worse every year, I swear.”

A memory sprung up in Terry’s mind like a jack-in-the-box head popping out of its compartment. Of course, a neophyte was the level below Initiate. There were several other ranks above that. Junior Adept, Adept and Senior Adept followed, then onto more complex, important-sounding titles that rivalled those of a large bank or advertising firm.

“What’s your name?” the same boy asked. The pudding bowl haircut made him immune to non-verbal cues that would terrify other kids, Terry reckoned. With hair like that, he’d probably grown a very thick skin. If the school he went to was anywhere like Rosedale High, he’d need it.

“My friends, my parents, and my mentors, call me Natasha,” the Adept said, her shadow growing into that of a giant behind her. “To you, my little worm, I am Miss Huston. Don’t. Wear. It out.”

He quivered away from her.

Everyone else stood frozen like pieces on a chessboard. Seeing his chance at securing the best spot, Terry dodged around to the bundle of straw in the farthest corner. The rest elbowed their ways towards the remaining corners. Guarding his makeshift bed, Terry watched a fight break out on the opposite side of the room. A wiry boy was trying to push a larger boy off the spot he’d staked out. Terry sat to watch. He quite enjoyed fights, so long as he wasn’t involved in one himself.

The bigger boy held the other one away with his rod-straight arm, his body well out of range of the flailing fists. “Get lost, Mark—I was here first!” He ducked, sending Mark pitching forward. Before Mark could recover his balance another boy lunged at him, scrabbling at his shoulder and trying to get him into a choke-hold. Miss Huston waved her arms and the three of them flew apart from each other like exploding shrapnel.

Miss Huston addressed the quarreling boys. Her smile had a lot of teeth for someone with such a small mouth. “There’s nothing in the rules saying the two of you can’t share a bed. We wizards are very enlightened as far as romantic preferences go.”

“It's yours, cry-baby.” Mark gave the smaller boy a shove, then went to the cot in the remaining corner and pushed that kid out from it. Miss Huston watched, but said nothing.

"Miss," the girl with pink flip-flops said, tugging Miss Huston’s sleeve.

"What is it?" She wheeled around and glared at her as if the girl had just smeared mud on her nice crimson robe.

"Where are the girls supposed to go?"

"Wherever! It says dorms are co-ed right in the brochure! We do not assume gender at Archon Castle. We're very progressive here. At sixteen surely you're old enough to have acquired immunity to boy germs."

The girl swallowed and stared around, her gaze passing Terry without a glimmer of expectation. He wasn’t relieved though; he felt sad for her. Four other girls had chosen spots next to each other on the far side of the room from him, and they glared at her in that way girls glare at anyone who Does Not Belong. Mean girls, like his sister and her friends. The place next to Terry was still empty, so he rose and gestured at the spot he’d staked out. How could he not offer it under the circumstances. "You can stay here if you want. I ... I have a sister so ... I’m already used to …"

She kept her head bowed and went to stand on the far side of the one next to his, meeting his chivalric gesture halfway. He tossed his backpack into the corner and sat again.

"I'll leave you to settle in. We will meet back in the courtyard in twenty-five minutes, where you will be given your very first lesson. In alchemy," Miss Huston said, and left.

Terry’s burning excitement at the sound of the word alchemy was doused by the sight of the girl sitting on the edge of the bed next to his, facing away from him and sobbing. Crying was always more painful to watch when all you could see was their back and shoulders shaking uncontrollably, head turned down.

"I’m Terry. What's your name?" he asked softly. Across from them the other girls were snickering and whispering, hands shielding mouths, eyes wild with malice.

She sniffled. "Katya," she said at last.

"That's a nice name," he said, again for the sake of something to say. There wasn't much a bully could do with a name like that. It didn't rhyme with anything nasty like Terry Fairy or hairy Terry. The worst they could do was Fatya, but she was too slim for that to work as an insult.

She didn't respond, not that he had expected her too. It would be rude to ask her to stop crying, so he turned his attention to spreading the thin blankets out on top the bales. He lay down and bits of straw prodded his neck and ankles. Thankfully the robe’s fabric was thick. In half an hour he’d be learning his first ever magic. Alchemy. He imagined a laboratory full of bubbling beakers and alembics, watching in awe as mysterious steaming substances flowed through networks of glass pipes into copper stills. Alchemy.

#wizard #wizardschool #chosenone #learningmagic #fantasy #fantasy fiction #fantasyfiction #fantasy novel #magical creatures #alchemy #corruption #adventure #male protagonist #underdog #wizards #adepts #schoolofmagic #inverted tropes #books

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ssromanogers · 6 years ago

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Secret Santa for Amuk

To: @kumeko From: Alexa (wipeoutthered.tumblr.com) @wipeoutthered Note: Happy (belated) holidays! I hope you enjoy this <33 Summary: Natasha tries to do something nice for Steve for the holidays. It doesn’t go totally as planned.

A light in the dark

The crash came from down the hall, somewhere in the direction of what used to be the team common room but now was mostly an abandoned space. Steve had his shield in his hand before the last of the noise had faded away, and barely a second later, he was already racing down the hall toward it, not bothering to check first for the source of the noise on the security cameras.

It had to be bad. There was no one around — there hadn’t been anyone around in a long, long time — except for him and Natasha, and she had told him an hour ago she was going for a run and not to expect her back before dinner.

The span of the hallway had never felt longer as he hurtled toward the place where he was sure the noise had come from, his stomach in knots that at once felt so familiar but also so much like a stranger. It had been so long since they had worried about intruders, about people trying to kill them or capture them or destroy the world, about Hydra and groups just like them. It was almost as if Thanos had destroyed everyone’s will along with half the population. The world was quieter these days, more depressed. Life went on, but barely anyone had it in them to really care. Or maybe that was just him projecting his own grief that never seemed to fade on to everyone else. He didn’t know. He didn’t really care.

Either way, he had always known the peace was never going to last. Sooner or later, the world would be in another crisis and they would have to save it, whether they liked it or not. It was what they did, after all. He just hadn’t counted on that crisis coming today, on Christmas Eve.

He rounded the corner and plowed through the closed doors of the old common room, shield raised in front of him, his other fist clenched at his side. He wasn’t sure what he was about to find in there, but he was ready for whatever it was.

Except he wasn’t.

His leg hit something hard and he toppled forward. Something scratched at his arms. His shield bounced off of something sticking upward.

He pulled upright and blinked. Then blinked again.

Nope, he wasn’t hallucinating. There was a tree lying across the floor of the common room, and he had just crashed into its protruding trunk.

And then he saw it. About halfway up the tree. Red hair sticking out from under a mass of green branches.

He yanked the tree up off the ground and looked down at her. She was lying on her back, the jeans and black shirt she was wearing covered with leaves. She smiled up at him.

“Hey, Soldier.”

“Natasha? Is there a reason there is a full-grown tree lying across the floor in here?”

She pulled herself out from under the fallen tree. “Of course,” she said. “I decided to plant a forest inside.”

He raised his eyebrows at her. “Nat,” he said.

She rolled her eyes. “I thought it might be nice to have a tree,” she said.

The “why” was almost out of his mouth before he realized the answer. He stared at her. He had known her for years, and not once in all those times had she ever seemed interested in anything Christmas. Sure, she opened the presents the rest of them got her (though not without complaints that she didn’t need anything), and sometimes she’d help prepare Christmas dinner back when they all lived in Avengers Tower, but that was about it. He had certainly never seen her wanting to help with the Christmas tree.

As he continued to stare at her, her amused expression turned to a scowl. “I thought it would be nice,” she repeated, almost defiantly.

And then he got it. “You’re doing this for me,” he whispered, and now she frowned.

“I thought you’d like it,” she said. “Haven’t you always told us we need to celebrate no matter how bad things are?”

Okay, yes, he had said that. A lifetime ago, it seemed, back when they were fugitives from the U.N., running and hiding their way across Europe, just the two of them with occasional visits from Sam and Wanda.

“I did say that,” he said. “I just …” Didn’t think there was anything worth celebrating this year, he didn’t say, because he thought she was looking almost hurt.

She looked away from him and down at the fallen tree. “I’ll just take it back outside,” she said.

“No,” he said quickly. “We don’t want to waste a tree.” He looked down at the tree and then over at her. “Did you chop this down?” he asked.

“Of course not,” she said. “It was one of the ones the wind knocked down during that storm last week.”

“You know there are places that actually sell Christmas trees,” he said with a smile.

She shrugged. “Why does it matter? It’s just a tree.”

He reached down and pulled the tree back to a standing position. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get to work.”

•••

He handed the mug of hot chocolate to Natasha and sat down on the couch beside her. Across the room, the towering sycamore was now decorated with strips of red bed sheets cut to look like ribbons and little action figures they had found in some former SHIELD agent’s office used as ornaments.

“It’s perfect,” she said, looking over at the tree and taking a sip of her beverage. “Right?” she added.

“It’s perfect,” he said.

She scooted closer to him and put her head on his shoulder. He slipped an arm around her shoulders, their go-to position as of late.

“I just thought we could have one day that’s …” She hesitated for a second. “Not happy,” she finally said, “but not as sad.”

A wave of guilt washed over him. Truthfully, he had barely spared a moment of thought for the holidays. He had barely spared a moment of thought for anything, except Bucky and Sam and Tony and everyone else they had lost. Thor had disappeared to see if he could find a way to reverse what had happened. Banner had gone with him. Clint hadn’t responded to any messages, and they had no way of knowing if he were alive or dead. Tony had never returned from space. All that was really left were him and Natasha.

Natasha, who hadn’t left his side since she stumbled out of the bushes back in Wakanda to find him standing over Vision’s dead body. She’d held his hand as they slowly made their way back to the palace. She embraced him as they stood together in the shower later that day, trying to wash away the memories and sobbing in each other’s arms. She’d curled up next to him that night in bed, neither of them sleeping.

“I don’t want you to be alone,” she had whispered just as the sun was coming up on a new day that he hadn’t wanted to see, and he had held her tighter.

They had come back to the old Avengers compound together. It had been deserted, everyone who used to work there either dead or just gone. They had wandered all the floors, searched all the rooms, that first day, and then they had ended up in Steve’s old room, lying side by side in his old bed.

It was what they had done every day since. Along with spending hours going over what happened. Looking through every old SHIELD file, every old Tony file, anything that might possibly offer a glimpse of hope and a way to reverse what had happened.

It was too hard to spend much time in the rooms where they used to all gather — the common area living room, the training rooms — so they had taken to spending most of their time in Steve’s old room and sometimes hers. The little training they did, they did outside or in random spaces, anything to make it not feel so hopeless.

But the one thing that never changed was her. She was always there, when he went to sleep at night and when he woke up in the morning. She spent hours reading files with him, spent even more hours sitting beside him in silence. She was hurting, too, he knew that, but she was the one who comforted him, who told him not to give up, who told him there had to be a way.

And now she was the one who was trying to give him a holiday he had always loved — a holiday she had never even cared about before.

“I’m sorry,” he said now.

She craned her head so she could look up at him. “What for?”

“For not asking you if you wanted to do something for the holiday.”

She laughed at that. “Oh, Steve,” she said. “It’s not like Christmas means anything to me.”

“But you did this for me.”

“You love Christmas,” she said, like it was that simple, and maybe it was.

“But you don’t.”

She shook her head, her hair — almost now back to her beautiful red color, with only the tips still the blonde he had hated on her but never wanted to tell her — tickling his neck as she moved.

“It just doesn’t mean anything to me,” she said. “We didn’t really do holidays in the Red Room.”

Looking down at her, he saw her crack a wry smile at that, but another wave of guilt passed over him. How had he known her for so long and not realized why she was so apathetic about holidays and other things that most people got excited about? He had always thought it was just Natasha being Natasha. If he had spent a second thinking about it …

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

“Stop being sorry,” she said. “It is what it is.”

He bent his head down and kissed her on top of her head. “Thank you for wanting to do this for me,” he told her.

She twisted around in his arms. “We’re going to figure this out, Steve,” she said. She reached up and ran her fingers down his cheeks. “We’re going to find a way to get them back. Or we’re going to figure out how to deal with it. It’s not always going to be like this.”

“I know,” he said, then, “Have I ever told you how much it means to me that you’re here?”

Natasha laughed and smacked him lightly in the chest. “Don’t get sappy on me,” she said.

“I mean it, Nat.”

“I know.” She was quiet for a minute before saying more. “I wouldn’t have gotten through this without you.”

“Yes, you would have,” he said. “You’re the strongest person I know.”

And she was. She always had been. Once upon a time, back when they were SHIELD agents, he’d thought she was just cold, unfeeling, uncaring. He had been so wrong. Somewhere, over the years, she had become his best friend, his confidant, his strength.

And now, sitting on the couch with her nestled against him, he realized just how much he needed her, just how much worse all of this would have been without her here.

Without stopping to think about it, he bent down even more, found her lips, pressed his against hers. She returned the kiss, twisting around even more in his arms so she was almost sitting in his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck. He found her waist and held her close.

He let out a whiff of air when she finally pulled back, a grin across his face. She was staring at him intently.

“I love you,” he said softly, because he did — he knew he did — and she deserved to hear it, even if she might not want to. He knew love was a tricky subject for her, but if something ever happened to her ….

Well, he needed her to know how he felt.

He waited to see if she would pull away after that pronouncement, pretend he hadn’t said anything at all, but instead she smiled. A real smile that lit up her eyes.

“Merry Christmas, Steve,” she said, and she leaned forward to kiss him harder this time.

It was as close to a declaration of love as he knew she was capable of giving him right now, and as he held her in his arms, kissing her with all the intensity he could muster, he also knew it was the best Christmas present he could have ever asked for. One he wanted to keep forever.

#romanogers #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #fanfic #submission #kumeko

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conquerorofshamballa2-blog · 6 years ago

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This could not be more last minute lol

Sorry @tsumi-alchemist but you got stuck with the worst procrastinator on the planet for your @fmasecretsanta2018. Here’s some royed domestic college AU fluff and smut for ya, hope you enjoy :)

Roy tapped his foot against the linoleum floors of their kitchen as he thought to himself, mulling Ed's question to him over in his head. But it was hard to think when he’s getting glared at impatiently, no matter much he loves those fiery eyes.

"Yes or no question, Roy."

"Don't play that card with me. You know it's more complicated than that." Nothing is ever complicated to Ed. Roy wishes he could live with that kind of clarity, knowing so strongly with all his being right from wrong, seeing the world in stark, contrasting colors. At least he’s had the comfort of getting to see the world in golden brilliance ever since Ed came into his life.

Ed huffs in annoyance, which is his typical response when Roy dares to make words with his mouth, as if he could ever be correct. Or at least, as correct as Ed is. "Fine. Okay... what if it's guaranteed that neither of us will get hurt?"

Well, that does make things simpler. Roy crosses his arms and leans back against the counter, hand coming up to stroke his chin as he watches Ed raid their pantry. He'll never understand how he can come home from movies hungry, after hoovering up both his own and half of Roy's popcorn like his body was fueled solely by salt and butter and he was close to dying.

"Hm... that does make it more tempting, but... no. No, I wouldn't let a symbiote enter our relationship."

Ed scoffs at him. "Coward."

"Selfish." Roy corrects him with an amused smile. "I simply don't want to share you."

Ed finally finds something that pleases him, kicking the cupboard door shut behind him as he unwraps the tinfoil prize in his hand, chomping into the poptart with gusto. And Lord, Roy loves him. How can he make the most barbaric behaviors come off as irresistibly charming?

“No wonder you changed your career choice.” He says with a mouthful of the cardboard snack, spraying crumbs as he talks. “You’d make a lousy scientist.”

“And what makes you say that?” Roy asks, though he doesn’t question Ed’s judgement on the matter. He’s barely an adult and already halfway through his PhD program, plowing through courses at a rate that makes even the coldest, most sardonic professors at their university worry about his health. His mind is as brilliant as the golden hair that halos him, and Roy marvels at being allowed to take up space in that ever whirring mind.

Meanwhile, Roy was at a loss with what to do with his BS in chemistry when he first graduated, not knowing how to structure his life outside of school. After a particularly miserable stint in the military, he returned with new purpose, finding a home in politics. He was a little behind, however, having to start over and now still working towards his MS in polisci at the tail end of his 20s.

He wouldn’t change any of it, though. Not at the risk of never meeting the incredible man standing barefoot with a mouth full of sugary sand in his kitchen. That’s the one good thing that came out of his now useless chemistry degree; the ability to sign up as a TA for the class he met Edward in. He’ll never forget that first meeting, a furious angel with looks that could kill storming into his borrowed office, failed assignment in hand and mouth already running. Roy could barely keep up with the colorful, creative insults (mostly aimed at his intelligence) hurled his way, partly because he was too taken aback by suddenly being face to face with the most beautiful human being he had ever seen in his life.

After finally calming him down and getting to take another look at his assignment, Roy was able to confirm that yes, Ed did get everything correct, and my apologies, I must have mixed your grade up with another student’s, and also, would you like to get coffee sometime?

The ridiculous, gawking look Ed had given him was almost worth the sting of rejection he felt when he stomped out of his office, slamming the door hard enough to knock off some professor’s doctoral degree that had been hanging on the wall, glass front shattering.

It wasn’t an entirely surprising reaction, considering what he had quickly learned about the young man’s temper within that brief meeting. What was surprising was when a familiar, golden wreathed angel stomped right back up to him in class the next day, shoving a scrap of paper with a cell number hastily scribbled on it into Roy’s hands before stomp stomp stomping away again without a single word.

It was a rare occurrence for Roy, getting surprised. He knew instantly this could be something special, something real.

“What makes me say that,” Ed starts, pulling Roy out of his nostalgic reverie, “is that any scientist worth their salt would not hesitate to fuck Venom. Or fuck their boyfriend while being bonded to Venom.”

Yes. This has absolutely become something very, very special.

“Well, I’m happy to know where your mind was at while we were watching that movie.” Roy says dryly, frowning at the crumbs that were now dusting his previously clean floor.

“My mind was at science. Shut up, everything I say makes perfect sense.” He commands before Roy gets the chance to tease him for his wording. “I mean, how can you not wonder at the logistics of it?”

“I also wonder at the logistics of cloning and creating advanced AIs that could one day destroy us all, but that doesn’t mean I’m actually going to do it.”

“Because you’re a coward.” Ed reiderates, putting the half eaten poptart, unwrapped, back in the cupboard, because he’s a savage.

“I already feel sorry for the poor ethics committee members who are going to have the misfortune of dealing with your bullheadedness once you start leading your own research projects.”

“Good, somebody has to. Cause I sure as hell won’t.”

“I’m aware.” Roy says with a sigh, making a mental note to sweep his kitchen later. “Are you aware that when we get mice, you’re the one who’s going to have to get rid of them?”

“I’m aware that I’ve been living here for a year and I haven’t seen a single mouse yet. Clearly I’m not as much as a slob as you think.” He retorts, leaving the kitchen behind so he can flop down on the couch in the living room.

Roy’s train of thought is completely thrown off by that statement, and he joins him silently without anymore witty remarks. “... Has it really been a year?”

“Almost. In about a month.” He sighs and closes his eyes, stretched out on the couch like a lazy cat soaking up sunlight. Roy sits on the opposite end, muscle memory commanding him to pick up Ed’s flesh foot and start rubbing, thumbs digging into his pressure points.

“That means it’s your birthday soon. I’ll finally be able to take you out for a drink.” He muses, already trying to figure out which bar Ed would like best.

“Who says I wanna go drinking with you, old man? 21’s a big milestone, I’m supposed to party all night. You like to be in bed by nine.” He mocks him, face scrunching up before the initial pain turns into pleasure, expression melting into a more relaxed state.

“You wound me, Edward. Also, I know for a fact that you’d rather help Professor Izumi grade undergrad papers than stay at a bar all night long.”

“And that’s sayin’ something.” Ed mumbles miserably, lifting up his arms so he can interlock his hands behind his head. “Win and Ling will still make me, though. Nothing says a good time like mandatory fun.” He pauses, then, before looking up at Roy with unsureness in his eyes. “I was joking, you know. You’ll come, right? It’s gonna be miserable anyway, but it will be beyond miserable without you there to distract me.”

Roy smiles at him reassuringly, thumbs pressing into the bridge of his feet as he runs them slowly up and down. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, sweetheart.”

The dusting of pink that coats Ed’s cheeks is delightful, and Roy can’t help but stare at it. He shyly looks away, suddenly very interested in inspecting the couch cushions. Ed never did quite get the hang of pet names, which means Roy uses them as often as possible.

“Sweetie. Sugar. Honey. Pudding. Pumpkin.” Roy’s smirk gets more and more devious as the list goes one, voice dripping with increasing amounts of fake, syrupy sweetness with every word.

That smirk transforms into a wide, laughing grin when he has to raise his arms to block the decorative pillow being hurled at him. He throws it back, of course, though not quite as hard. This turns into Ed holding onto the pillow as he batters Roy with it, which turns into Roy absconding from the couch to get extra ammo from the armchair. That turns into Ed chasing him, which turns into Roy running for dear life, stumbling into their bedroom to grab the bigger, bulkier pillows.

Things only escalate from there, the two of them ducking up and down from hiding behind their sides of the bed, taking pillows to the face and arms and tossing them back across the mattress. Ed’s loud, bright laughter fills the room when Roy vaults up onto Ed’s side of the bed, reaching down to pull him up onto the bed with him. His laugh is highly infectious, Roy laughing along with him as the battle continues in close combat, both their sides and chests getting pummeled by the plump, soft weapons. It ends with Ed collapsing backwards, Roy following and leaning over him as they both keep laughing, faces red from the exertion, panting and breathing in each other’s air as they struggle to catch their breaths.

He’s an absolute vision. Roy could stare down at the beautiful form below him for one hundred years, and still not be able to fully drink in and appreciate every perfect detail of Edward Elric. His chest rises and falls with each labored breath, cheeks a bright red and forehead covered in a thin sheen of sweat, bangs beginning to stick to it. His one thousand watt smile lights up Roy’s life, sparkling eyes more beautiful than any star. A halo of mussed hair frames his chiseled face, ponytail loose from the pillow fight with a multitude of flyaway strands sticking every which way. One strand is caught on Ed’s deliciously plump bottom lip, and Roy brushes it away before reaching behind Ed’s head to pull his hair tie out, letting the silken strands splay out onto the sheets.

“You,” He starts, bringing a hand up to cup Ed’s cheek, “are the most stunning creature I have ever laid eyes on.”

Edward’s smile falls, replaced by a hungry expression as he stares up at Roy through hooded eyes. “Dork. Shut up and kiss me.” Roy couldn’t possibly say no to that.

He braces himself on his hands next to either side of Ed’s head, slotting their lips together easily and naturally. He watched Ed’s eyes flutter close before he lets his own eyes slip shut, letting his other senses take control of drinking in just how wonderful the man under him is.Their lips move together slow and sweet, the soft, wet noises between them lulling Roy into a state of absolute zen. He could stay this way forever if it were up to him, but kisses with Ed would never stay this gentle. It wasn’t long before he felt two strong, muscular arms wrapping around him, pulling him closer and a hungry, searching tongue probing his lips for an opening. Roy surrenders easily, lips parting so he can suck Ed’s tongue into his mouth.

And Ed always kisses like a dying man, hungry and passionate and dizzying in the best of ways, leaving Roy breathless. The slide of their tongues against one another sends a shiver through him, that shiver only intensifying when he feels one of Ed’s hands run up into his hair to grip it at the roots. He responds in kind with a none too gentle nip to Ed’s bottom lip, causing his breath to hitch and his grip on Roy to tighten.

Roy would let him hold on like that forever, if he wanted to.

Luckily for Roy, Ed was always quick to let him know exactly what it was he wanted. He accomplishes it this time by shoving his crotch bodily up against Roy’s, making his rapidly developing interest in the situation known. The boldness alone is enough to make Roy moan, nevermind the tempting hardness that just got jammed against his thigh. Ed could be shy to initiate, but once things got going, Ed certainly got going himself. And who was Roy to deny him?

With well coordinated deftness, he has Ed unbuttoned and unzipped, shoving his boxers aside until he’s got Ed in his hands. Roy was never one to find genitalia all that aesthetically pleasing, but he’d be hard pressed not to find anything about Ed a marvel to look at, and his cock was no exception. Hard and pink tipped, nestled atop a bed of golden curls, pulse thrumming strong and hot through the prominent vein visible underneath…

“Take a picture; it’ll last longer.” Ed chokes out underneath him, eyes dazed and face alight as he bucks impatiently into Roy’s hand. “C’mon, Roy…” He whines so sweetly, and Roy was going to ask if he actually could take a picture, but well, he’s feeling rather distracted from that train of thought all of a sudden.

Long, slender fingers wrap more firmly around the beautiful, dripping cock beneath him, kisses migrating from Ed’s mouth to his neck, only so that he doesn’t block the litany of unrestrained sounds of desire that spill forth from Ed’s kiss bruised lips. The squirming beneath him does nothing to quell Roy’s need, and he can’t help but laugh at the frustrated moan that breaks free from Ed when he stops paying attention to him long enough for Roy to free himself from the constraints of his clothes.

He kisses his apology into the crook of Ed’s neck before taking both of them in his hand, pumping them together and rolling his hips against Ed as his own series of moans left his mouth, muffled against Ed’s sweaty, sweet smelling skin. He wasn’t able to appreciate the smell of a sexed up Edward for long, though, as two rough hands grabbed his face to pull him up into a hungry kiss.

The gasp that draws out of him gets swallowed hungrily by the ravenous mouth set upon him, the pace of his hand and hips quickening as a new desperation sweeps over him. That desperation turns into heat that pools deep within him, and if the frantic jerking of Ed’s cock in his hands is anything to go by, then Ed’s finding himself in a similar state. There’s no coordination anymore, no forethought, just bodies and tongues and lips and cocks rubbing and rolling against each other, slicked by mingling sweat and saliva and pre. The heat and pressure builds up to a point where it’s just almost too much to bear, nerve endings warring over whether to flood Roy’s brain with signals of pleasure or pain.

There’s a brief moment of absolute quiet and stillness below him before hot, sticky slick spills into his hand, a moan like shattering stained glass cracking through the air around them as Ed breaks from their kiss, finding his release. And that’s what Roy needed to finally tip over the edge himself, hips and hand stuttering as his cum mixes with Ed’s, moan muffled once he buries his face in the crook of Ed’s neck.

They stay that way for a while, clinging to one another as they struggle to catch their breaths, riding out the waves of oxytocin. Ed’s the first one to complain of stickiness, as usual, and after quickly discarding their clothes and briefly wiping themselves off, they’re finally snuggled back into bed again. They’re both quiet for the most part, a rarity between the two of them, as they soak up just how perfect an ending that was to a perfect day. Roy’s the first one to break the silence, living up to Ed’s constant insults about his ‘big fucking mouth.’

“Hey.” He takes Ed’s face between both hands, taking a moment to stare at his blissed out, post coitus expression before he breaks into a soft smile. “I love you.”

Flashes of doubt and uncertainty shine through Ed’s eyes, as they usually do when Roy makes such bold declarations. He’s able to settle into a state of acceptance after a moment, though, and Roy dreams of the day he can make that doubt disappear entirely. “Love you, too. Cheesy bastard.” Is Ed’s mumbled response, and how did such a dirty mouthed little brat come to make Roy’s chest swell so?

His amazement is cut short when Ed’s face wrinkles up with a yawn, which is just about the cutest thing Roy’s ever seen. “So,” Ed starts speaking on the tail end of his yawn, “we both have tomorrow off. What do you want to do?” Roy can’t help taking this opportunity.

“The way I see it,” he says with a deep voice, a pathetic, humorous attempt at imitating Venom’s alien growl, “WE can do whatever WE want.”

The sting of the smack he receives to his bicep is absolutely worth the bell like laughter that rings from Ed’s chest, filling the room as it fills Roy’s heart. Roy smiles wide and bright as he realizes there’s not a thing in this world that wouldn’t be worth getting to hear his angel laugh.

#royed #fma #edward elric #roy mustang #myfic

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crochetawayhpff · 7 years ago

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Apothecary Games

This is a gift for @thesilverlioness who requested a funny, fluffy, smutty Snamione. I think I got one out of the three, sorry my dear. It’s rated M for the smut, read below the line at your own risk. Here you go anyway:

Severus Snape stormed through the door of his apothecary on a blustery fall day. Thankful that his shop assistant was competent enough to mind the till alone. Severus had been through seven shop assistants until he found one with such capabilities. The general public was littered with dunderheads, and now that Severus was no longer trapped at Hogwarts, he endeavored never to be around dunderheads if he could help it. It was most of the reason behind locating his apothecary at the entrance of Knockturn Alley instead of Diagon Alley proper. That and his brisk trade in slightly legally grey ingredients. He had a strict no ask policy when a customer came through looking for something most apothecaries didn't carry.

The bell on the door rang jauntily as he closed it behind him. He stalked through the aisleways on his way to the backroom when he came upon a sight no red-blooded man would be able to ignore. A woman, with a deliciously round backside, was bent over at the waist, digging for something on the bottom shelf. Mugwort, most likely, as that was where it was kept. Her feet were encased in shiny, black stilettos and braced hip-width apart, as she bent over to retrieve her items. Severus felt his breath pull up short at the way her matching black pencil skirt rode up her thighs, exposing a long, creamy swath of skin that begged for Severus to run his tongue along.

Feeling a tightening in his groin, Severus adjusted himself subtly as the woman came to standing, rolling her body up and clutching a fistful of Mugwort.

"Ah-ha," she muttered as she straightened her skirt and strode away from him. The swaying of her bottom was intoxicating. Severus trailed his eyes further up her body to find a tucked in waist and long, curly brown hair, halfway down her back. He had no idea who this nymph was, but suddenly he wanted to know her. He wanted to know the way her curves felt beneath his hands, the way her tight cunny would grip his cock as he plowed her from behind. He wanted her in a way he hadn't wanted a woman in years.

She disappeared from view as she rounded the corner at the end of the aisle and Severus hurried to follow after her.

"... heard you could supply Venomous Tentacula seeds," the woman was asking his shop assistant, Alfred.

"Well, that's true, but usually we ask that customers deal directly with the owner for those sorts of requests," Alfred said giving her the line he was taught. Severus wanted to know exactly what was going on in his shop.

"Oh, dear," the woman lamented. Neither she nor Alfred had seen him yet. He was about to step forward when she spoke again. "See, the thing is, I don't think the owner would be inclined to see me. And I was so hoping I could be in and out before he even knew I was here," she laughed lightly and leaned forward on the countertop. Severus watched as Alfred's eyes darted down, toward the woman's chest. His own heart sped up and his eyes narrowed. Clearly, she was up to no good if she was attempting to seduce poor Alfred.

"Well… it's just I don't…"

"Do you not know where he keeps such items, perhaps?" the woman asked.

"Oh, no. Of course, I do," Alfred told her, puffing out his chest. Severus wanted to roll his eyes, men all acted the same when it came to a pretty woman flattering them. He ignored the thought that he wouldn't mind if the woman was flattering him that way.

"Of course you do, dear," she patted Alfred's hand. Alfred's eyes darted down when she didn't remove it. Severus couldn't see her other hand, but judging by the look on Alfred's face, she had done something to enhance Alfred's view of her cleavage.

Severus considered interrupting, but he deemed this a good test for Alfred. If Alfred could hold his own against such a battle than he would be worth keeping around.

"It's just, I've been forbidden to sell to customers without them first speaking with the owner," Alfred lamented, not taking his eyes off the woman's chest.

"I see," the woman responded, standing up straight. "Well, in that case, I'll just have to take my business elsewhere."

That was Severus' cue. He stepped forward from the shadow where he was hiding and Alfred spotted him immediately above the woman's head.

"Oh, no need miss! The owner is here now," Alfred smiled at her encouragingly.

"Blast it," the woman muttered and Severus felt his eyes narrow further. Who was this woman who needed something so illegal, and yet seemingly didn't want to deal with him?

She tossed the periwinkle cloak she had draped over one arm around her shoulders, drawing the hood up and turned, with her head down, trying to move past him.

Severus snaked out an arm and grabbed her wrist before she could, "Not so fast," he said silkily.

"Unhand me," the woman demanded, keeping her face pointed toward the floor.

"Not until you tell me who you are," Severus responded, pulling on her wrist until she was standing before him.

"It's no matter. I will do my business elsewhere," the woman said through clenched teeth.

Severus reached out his other hand and pushed the hood back. The woman still wouldn't look at him, so he grasped her chin and tilted her head back. She looked familiar, but he couldn't quite place her.

"Professor," the woman ground out.

"Miss Granger," Severus responded and dropped both her wrist and her chin as if she'd burned him. He had been lusting after a former student. Although, she was a long way from girlhood with the curves she had shown off today.

"Excuse me," Granger tried to go around him.

"What do you need the Venomous Tentacula seeds for?" Severus asked, unable to stop his curiosity.

"I was told you didn't ask questions," Granger replied.

Severus narrowed his gaze at her, she was right. He didn't normally ask questions.

"Alfred, I think it's time for your lunch break," Severus responded. "Please close up the shop." He didn't take his eyes off Granger the entire time.

"It's fine if you won't sell to me, Professor. There are others who will," Granger insisted, trying to go around him again.

"Don't be so hasty," Severus drawled. "I'll sell to you. For a price."

Something in his voice must have given him away because when she met his gaze again, she appeared contemplative.

Alfred left the shop with the doorbell tinkling merrily and a scrape of a key in the lock. Granger unclasped her periwinkle cloak, pulling it from her shoulders and Severus got an eyeful of what she had been trying to bribe Alfred with.

"What price?" she asked, her voice had dropped to a husky tone.

"What do you think would be fair?" Severus asked as he took a step toward her. She took a step back, keeping a small distance between them. The air of the shop suddenly felt close and Granger darted her tongue out to wet her lower lip.

"I'm sure we can think of some arrangement," Granger replied. She dropped her cloak and took another step back. A quick flick of her wrist and her dress unbuttoned further, showing the top of her bra. It was green. Slytherin green. Severus' eyes narrowed further as he wondered just how planned out Granger's appearance today was. Severus followed her as she stepped slowly back until she was trapped between the counter and him. He was hard and he hadn't even touched her yet.

She remedied that by placing a hand on the center of his chest, fiddling with the buttons of his frock coat, she looked up at him through her lashes.

"What sort of payment would you be requiring?" she asked as she slid her hand down his chest, meandering her way south. Severus' belly tightened as her hand brushed past it toward his trousers.

"I have some ideas," he said finally as she began tracing the outline of his cock with her fingers. He clenched his fist to keep from pulling her to him, even though he desperately wanted to bury his hands in her hair as he crushed her body to his.

Without warning, she dropped to her knees and began working on the placket of his trousers.

"Miss Granger!" Severus half-shouted as she worked him free.

"Hmmm?" she hummed. The hum turned appreciative when she found what she was looking for. Severus gripped the counter with both hands as she leaned forward to kiss the head of his cock. Her lips were petal soft, but her tongue was burning hot as she flicked it out to taste him.

"Merlin," he breathed as she engulfed the head of his cock in her hot mouth. She hummed and he was ready to shoot his load right then and there. Where did she pick up this skill? Granger ran one hand up the front of his thigh, resting it there. It was hot through his trousers and she wrapped her other hand around the rest of his cock, pumping him in time with the swirls around his head.

"Fuck," he muttered when she hollowed her cheeks and sucked him as deep as she could.

Suddenly, she popped her mouth off him and looking down at her, she smirked. "Can I touch myself?" she asked.

"Sweet Circe, yes," he groaned. With another smirk, she took him in her mouth once more, the hand leaving his thigh to dip beneath her skirt. He watched her eyes flutter as her hand pleasured herself. Gods, that was erotic, he pulled both hands from the counter and dove them into her hair, guiding her head as she slid her hot mouth over his length.

He didn't want this to be the end, it couldn't be the end, not yet, so he pulled her from him and urged her to stand. Once she was on her feet, he pressed his lips to hers, tasting her for the first time. They met in a frantic kiss and he soon was gripping her waist, lifting her so she could sit on the counter behind them. She wrapped her legs around him, trapping his erection between them. That's when he discovered she wasn't wearing knickers, he could feel her slick folds as they slipped around his cock.

"Please," she begged as he pulled away from her and began kissing down her neck, intent on finding a nipple. Her own hands scrambled at his back, one burying itself in his hair as she tossed her head back, offering herself to his seeking kisses.

He found a nipple through her lace, green bra and greedily sucked it into his mouth. Her hips bucked into his and her legs tightened around his waist.

"I need you," she told him plaintively, as she clutched at him closer, attempting to rock her hips in just the right angle that would impale her on him.

"Why didn't you say so?" Severus muttered, he pulled away just long enough to align himself properly and sank into her tight, wet heat.

"Good Merlin above," she swore as he stretched her.

He grunted his own approval and dropped his head to her shoulder, planting small kisses on her skin as she rocked her hips into his.

"Come on, move, dammit," she whined and he obliged her by grasping her hips tightly and pulling him to her, sinking further into her sweet cunt. He pressed a hand to her chest, pushing her to lie down flat on the counter. She raised her arms over her head and gripped the counter behind her as he began pounding into her.

"Fuck, yes, don't stop. Severus," she shrieked, and in response, Severus raised her left leg and placed it on his left shoulder, her pussy became impossibly tight in this new position and she keened, arching her back into him and holding onto the counter for dear life.

Severus' assault did not stop, although he could feel his balls drawing up, tightening. He slipped his left hand between her pressed together thighs and found her clit. A few swipes and she was clenching and crying out her orgasm over him. He tried to hold back, wanted to hold back, to take her another way, but he couldn't and soon after she fell boneless to the countertop, he grunted through his own climax, finally stilling inside her.

She moved her left leg from his shoulder, so he stood between her legs once more as he dropped his had to her abdomen, pressing soft kisses until he became soft enough to fall out of her glorious cunt.

"Merlin," she breathed.

"Indeed."

He took a deep breath and raised his head, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her to a sitting position.

"Next time, leave Alfred out of it, Hermione," he told her, stealing a kiss.

She giggled lightly, "Poor Alfred, I hadn't expected him to be here."

"No, and he doesn't know about you. Hopefully, I can get the stench of sex out of here before he comes back from his lunch break."

"I'm sure you'll manage," Hermione smirked at him, as she began adjusting her clothes. "I have to get back to the Ministry anyway."

"With no knickers?" Severus asked.

"I haven't been wearing any all day. Why would I start now?" she asked saucily. "Besides, how will you be able to assault me the moment I walk through the door tonight if I have knickers in the way."

"Minx," he growled, nipping at her neck. Just then, they heard the rattle of the door handle, and the jingle of the bell. Biting her lip, and smoothing her hair the best she could. Hermione pushed Severus from her so she could get off the counter and wrapped her cloak around her once more.

"See you tonight," she gave him a small secret grin and swept from the store.

As much as Severus wanted to curtail his wife's love of games when she came up with ones like today, how was he to stop her? It had been just as fun for him as it had been for her. He tapped his lip with his finger as an idea began to form in his mind of retribution.

Find it on FFN and AO3 here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12844576/1/Apothecary-Games https://archiveofourown.org/works/13747938

#snamione #severus snape #hermione granger #snape lives #severus x hermione #severus snape x hermione granger #harry potter #fanfiction #hpff #crochetawayhpff

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the-avenging-writer · 8 years ago

Text

Stranger than Fiction

Fandom: Supernatural

Summary: Sam came across a book where the main character kills herself, but as one of the boys’ cases ends, they find someone who needs their help… not realizing who it is at first.

Warnings: Depression, self harm mentioned, suicide attempt.

A/N: This is the first part to a series, and I hope you like it! Any and all feedback is greatly appreciated, and no feedback makes me feel like you guys don’t care to read it.. which means there will probably be less to read.

Word Count is around 2700.

She was numb. Completely emotionally numb… and she was tired of feeling that way. Red lines littered her body. Pain wasn’t helping this time. Looking back, she knew where all this was leading, no matter how many people said it never had to go there…

Sam glanced up from the book. He was currently curled up on the couch in the bunker, spending a quiet day reading. There was no current case, and no impending apocalypse, so he planned to spend the day lost in a book.

He happened to come across this book when he and his brother were out on their last case. It was the first book in what was supposed to be a trilogy, but google searches weren’t helpful with any information regarding the book. It was a recent book - having been published only three years prior - but the copy he had was missing the author’s name on the cover page (and bio from the back), so he was left with a general title and no way of knowing if the book continued.

Normally he would read a classic novel, such as Moby Dick or the Grapes of Wrath, but something about this novel caught his attention. The main character was compelling, and Sam found himself hooked every time she talked, even though his heart broke at her words. Many times he found himself having to be consciously reminded that this was a work of fiction.

The main character, (Y/N), was overall an under-valued person. Sam found her character to be heartbreaking, yet humble. More than once he wished he could meet her, reassure her that she was valued, that someone cared for her.. and more than in a familial sense: He valued her for more things than her family would ever know about. Her strength, her endurance, her mind. She was a completely developed character, but yet her flaws seemed to weigh her down more than they should.

He knew how easy it was, constantly looking down on yourself so when something positive was said you didn’t believe it. More than anything he wanted this character to care for herself the way he did.

Sam shut his eyes and sighed. If Dean were here, he would never let Sam live this down. Meeting a fictional character was ridiculous.

But was it? Stranger things had happened in their lives. Once they had even been trapped in a parallel universe where their world was fictional.

His mind wandered at the possibility. What would he say to her? Sam’s first thoughts turned to her attitude toward herself. She had such a low opinion of herself, and that itself was heartbreaking. She would consistently sacrifice herself for anyone because she didn’t feel as if she was worth the fight. That is what he would address. He would fight for her.

Sam was snapped out of his thoughts as cell phone rang. “Hello?”

“I found us a case.” Dean said loudly. He was currently on his way back to the bunker, driving fast and with the windows down. “There’s a nest, just north of Jefferson City, Missouri.”

“Alright,” Sam said, attempting to find his bookmark. “We leaving tonight?”

“I figure we leave tonight then get there early enough in the day to take down those sons-of-bitches.” Sam barely heard his brother over the wind in the background.

“Okay, I’ll start packing.” Sam said, still in search of the vanishing bookmark.

“See you soon.” Dean ended the call with a click, and only after standing up did Sam finally see the old tattered bookmark where he had been sitting.

Muttering to himself, he rolled his eyes and headed to his room to pack.

The hunt went as expected; there was a close call, but the brothers got out with barely a scratch on them while the victims had been saved if not slightly scarred from the experience. After dropping the two slightly damaged men off at the nearest hospital, the brothers headed to the edge of town before finding a motel to crash at for the night.

The boys’ standards for finding a suitable room were low; two beds and, at this time of year, a working heater. It was supposed to snow that night, and Sam had convinced his brother to wait until morning when he could actually see rather than drive at night through a snow storm.

In the meanwhile, Sam had called dibs on the shower first and once he was cleaned up, he sprawled out on his bed - “since you got the shower first I get to choose the beds” Dean had whined, - and pulled out the paperback book he was close to finishing.

He almost refused to finish it. Sam knew what was coming; her attempt to end her life. But he couldn’t stand not knowing exactly how she did it, or if she succeeded.

Sam read the last few pages in horror.

I could feel the blood pounding in my ears, as if my heart was begging me not to go through with it. But it was too late. My mouth was dry as I stood there on the edge of the bridge. My toes were already dangling over the empty air as I kept one hand on the cold metal rail behind me. I took a deep yet shaky breath; trying to gather the courage to take the step… my last step.

I felt the tears running down my cheeks before I even recognized the fact that I was crying. But those tears were not shed in sorrow. I was angry. I hated the world for putting me here. It was cruel irony; the bright future others claimed I had was about to be long gone with this last step.

I closed my eyes. The blood was staining my clothes but it didn’t matter at this point. I slowly brought my foot up, off the ledge of the concrete bridge I stood on. I could hear the water running beneath me and I longed to be part of the peaceful scene below.

So I leaned forward and let go of the rail. I felt myself begin to fall, but the feeling one would normally have in their stomach, the butterflies… I didn’t feel them.

Time seemed to slow down as I fell. My body tumbled over itself until I was facing upwards with my back to the ground below me. The stream under me babbled as I grew closer to it’s inviting waters. My eyes glanced between the full moon and the clouds that covered the stars. It was a beautiful summer night, I only hoped others would appreciate her beauty as I did. The magnificence of nature always astounded me, and as I closed my eyes I waited for nature to claim me as her own.

But nature was not so sweet.

Sam frowned and checked the next few empty pages. Nothing? That is how the book ends? That wasn’t even an ending… no closure, no last-minute revelation, nothing. Sam stared at the book with his eyebrows furrowed until Dean finally snapped his fingers in front of his brother’s face.

“Dude, you’ve been staring at that thing for a while now. Did you just find out about Luke’s father?”

“What?” Sam asked, only hearing the last part of Dean’s question.

“Luke’s father… it’s a Star Wars reference… huge plot twist…” Dean said slowly, but Sam shook his head.

“No,” the taller brother said, “It’s not a plot twist or anything…it’s the end.” He pursed his lips as he re-read the last few sentences again. “She… dies.”

“Lemme see that.” Dean said, snatching the book out of his brother’s hand. He cleared his throat before reading aloud. “’I took a deep yet shaky breath; trying to gather the courage to take the step… my last step.’ Dude.” Dean said, throwing a questioning glance at Sam. “What the hell… what kind of depressing shit do you read?”

Sam ignored Dean as he finished the page. “Huh,” Dean said, turning the pages like his brother had done. “So that’s it?”

“I guess so.” Sam said with a frustrated sigh. “I haven’t been able to find anything on it.”

“That’s unfortunate.” Dean said, already losing interest as he collapsed onto his bed. “Well, let’s get some shut eye,” He flipped a few nearby light switches off. Sam threw the book onto his dufflebag, mentally reminding himself to pack it in the morning, then turned off the remained of the lights.

The next morning the brothers slept in unknowingly. The snow storm had hit hard the previous night and the power had gone out as a consequence. Dean was the first one to wake, only to see a red-lighted alarm clock with the wrong time blinking back at him.

“Sam.” Dean grumbled, throwing a pillow at his larger brother. “Time to get up.”

Sam grumbled but sat up. “What time is it?” He asked, running a hand through his hair sleepily.

“Around ten.” Dean said, glancing at the watch that never left his wrist. “Let’s get something to eat and hit the road. We still have a four hour drive.” Sam nodded and crawled over to his duffle bag.

They were ready within ten minutes. Dean had already brushed the snow off Baby when Sam had come back from returning the keys to the front desk. The roads were icy, but nothing the two of them hadn’t come across before. Snow plows were passed and salt was spread on the road. Sam absent-mindedly wondered if demons hated winter for this reason specifically.

They were halfway back to the Bunker when they stopped for gas. Sam headed inside to use the bathroom and get snacks while Dean filled the tank. Sam was at the counter when a news bulletin caught his attention.

“Many back roads in Missouri and Kansas have been closed due to the snow storm that hit last night. This blizzard has set national records for the sheer area of land it hit, but this record comes with a price; many roads and even interstates should expect delays due to shortages of snow plows.”

Sam grabbed his snacks and headed back to Dean. “Change of plans…”

The detour added two more hours on the total driving time, but the snow hadn’t hit the southern part of the state as much as it had the north, which meant less traffic and overall waiting. The brothers were about an hour and a half out from the bunker when it began to snow again.

“You’ve got to be fudging kidding me.” Dean muttered as he flipped on his windshield wipers. The snow reduced visibility significantly and Dean was forced to slow down as the roads began to curve and wind through the hillside. There were a handful of small towns along the road they were on, but they were about to pass the last one before the rest of the drive into the in-populated area south of the Bunker.

They were barely half an hour outside the last town, or an hour from the bunker, when the road conditions deteriorated completely. Dean sighed, knowing even Baby couldn’t get through three feet of snow. Besides, it was practically a death wish trying to drive blind on the windy ass roads they were riding. Dean placed the car in park and opened the door before Sam managed to ask.

“I’m going to see how far this damn snow goes. If it’s just a little ways, we can clear it and get back. If not, we’ll turn around and get back to the last town we passed.” He reasoned, and Sam nodded his approval.

It turned out to only be that deep for the next hundred feet or so; just until it passed the bridge they were coming up on. Dirt shovels were a pain in the ass to use to move snow, but they were the brothers’ only resource. Half an hour passed before a path had been cleared on the road, and the boys were just about to head back to the impala when Sam happened to glance at the river below the bridge they were standing on.

“Shit.” He cursed, letting his shovel hit the ground as he ran back to the road in order to find a way down to the river. Dean watched his brother curiously before spotting what sent Sam into a panic.

A girl laid on the water’s edge; she looked beyond pale and Dean watched, holding his breath on the off chance she could still be alive.

Sam picked his way down the rocky slope as he tried to reach the girl. He wasn’t sure what to expect as he approached, but as he saw her move his caution melted away. “Dean, she’s alive!” Sam called, reaching down to check for a pulse.

He faintly heard the Impala roar to life as Dean pulled the car forward to help reduce the distance. Carefully, Sam placed his arms under the cold girl before slowly picking her up. She was unconscious and he silently hoped she wasn’t in any pain.

“She needs a hospital.” Sam said once he was within earshot of his brother. Dean shook his head as he helped place the girl in the backseat of the Impala.

“How the hell are we supposed to get her there?” Dean said, jumping in the front seat while Sam sat in the back with the unconscious girl as his brother pealed out of park. “It’s going to take longer for us to backtrack to a hospital. The bunker is her best bet.”

“But she’s hypothermic.”

“Yeah, and you were too at one point.” Dean said, stepping more on the gas. “Just get her dry and warm. It’ll be easier when we get back to the bunker.” Sam nodded and wrapped the girl in his jacket before pulling her closer to him, hoping his body heat would help to keep her warm.

Dean continued to speed through the countryside as Sam felt the girl shiver against him. Blood and mud covered over half her clothes, but he didn’t see any wounds at the moment.

“Cas.” Dean growled from the front seat. “I know you’ve been busy but we could really use you.”

But like the last dozen times Dean had called to the angel, nothing happened. The girl had yet to regain consciousness, and Sam and Dean quietly conversed over the seats.

”How old do you think she is?” Dean asked, glancing in the rear-view mirror at the girl who appeared younger than the two of them.

“I have no idea.” Sam said, never have gotten a good look at her face. “Maybe in her twenties?”

“Twenties?” Dean restated. “What was she doing all the way out of town?”

“I don’t know.” Sam said, his eyebrows bunching together. “How did she get there?” Sam asked aloud. “There weren’t any tire-tracks in the snow besides ours…”

“Unless the car came by before the snow hit.” Dean suggested

“That would have been last night or early this morning, nearly twelve hours, Dean.”

“She wouldn’t have made it alive out there for that long.” Dean said, glancing once more in the mirror above him. Sam shook his head, lost in thought.

“Unless she’s not human.” Sam threw out, and Dean’s jaw clenched.

“All the holy water is in the trunk.” He said, running over the tests in his head. “But hey, here.” Dean said, handing Sam his silver blade. Sam pressed the flat edge to the girl’s unclothed arm and shook his head.

‘No reaction.” Sam said, handing his brother his knife back before gently opening the girl’s mouth slightly to check for fangs. “Not a vamp, either. No fangs. “

Dean nodded. “Looks like we’ll just have to wait for her to wake up then.” He glanced back at his brother, who was watching the girl with a curious gaze. “Hopefully she’ll be able to clear everything up.”

Read Part 2 here

#sam winchester x reader #meta!reader #au!reader #spn reader insert #supernatural #cas #dean winchester #castiel #stranger than fiction #mine

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silent-mumblr · 6 years ago

Text

Who Weeps for Cadmus?

Chapter 1: Voyage Cadmus preferred flying this old fashioned solar sail ship, to one of the more modern hyper-drive ships, from his native moon’s orbit to Draco.763.3a, the only habitable moon orbiting Draco.763.3. He was well aware he could have made the trip in a couple hours instead of the two hundred and seventy days, give or take, that this trip would take him, but he didn’t like flying faster than the speed of light, thank you. It made his stomach queasy. He liked seeing the stars as points instead of lines. Besides that, Cadmus didn’t think punching a hole in the space-time fabric was good for the environment.

Cadmus’ co-pilot was his trusty dagu, “Lonesome”. Lonesome couldn’t really pilot the ship. He wasn’t able to do much of anything besides pant with his tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth and look generally friendly. Lonesome’s fur covered his entire body except his belly. He had a long scruffy tail, pointy ears, a medium-size proboscis, and foul breath.

Cadmus operated the ship’s artificial gravity for Lonesome’s sake since he didn’t do so well with zero gravity. He’d throw up big globules of gruesome looking stuff. So Cadmus set the outer shell of the ship to spinning to create a 1-g ring around the ship so that Lonesome could feel normal; well, also so that Cadmus could exercise and take a shower.

Cadmus liked staring out the big picture window and pointing his telescope at the interesting objects he passed by. He had another hundred days or so to go before he reached 3a. He calculated he should be able to see 3, the huge uninhabitable planet around which 3a revolved, in eighty-five or six days. He gazed at the familiar Old Woman constellation, tracing the line of her crooked back until he got to her finger pointing to the Southern Star by which the ship navigated.

Cadmus was not in any hurry. He had no one waiting for him on either side of the trip.

Chapter 2: Ay Kaly Cadmus had fifteen more days to go before arriving at 3a. When you came down to it, he wasn’t even sure why he wanted to go to this particular moon; maybe just because it was there, he guessed, and because he could.

Cadmus pulled up his rocker next to the folding table beside the big picture window. He plumped the pillows the way he liked and gazed at the paucity of the solar system. There didn’t seem to be much happening. The constellations and unassociated stars hardly moved. It was like they were holding their breaths. Suddenly he had a memory of when he was a child playing hide-and-seek with the other children and he had held his breath when they passed near him.

There was a calendar fixed to the wall by the window. The days of his trip were crossed off one by one. Cadmus would draw a circle around the date when he woke up and then an X through the date before going to sleep. Dozing off in the middle didn’t count.

Cadmus kept himself fairly busy. He made a checklist of things he should do while awake:

Wake up Feed Lonesome Exercise, eliminate, shower, and dress Feed Lonesome Walk Lonesome Draw a circle around today’s date Eat something Brush teeth Check what’s going on outside Check the instruments Feed Lonesome Sit by the window and think Write something, anything, in the diary Feed Lonesome Eat something else Walk Lonesome again Brush teeth Draw an X through today’s date Go to sleep

Lonesome didn’t need a checklist. He was content to follow around whatever Cadmus was doing. Maybe he was following Cadmus’ checklist.

There was a small picture frame on the ledge of the window. In it was a photograph of a young woman next to a younger version of Cadmus. She had thick long black hair, dark brown eyes, pronounced cheekbones, and inviting lips puckered up in a kiss. Every time he looked at her he sighed, “Ay Kaly”.

“Ay Kaly, would that you were with me. You’d love it. You could scarcely contain your happiness as soon as you’d enter a shuttle terminal, any terminal. It never mattered where or where we were going. Just to be going,” he said to himself.

Kalyra was his wife.

Once.

Cadmus opened up his diary, pulled a pencil out of one of his pockets, and wrote the following:

Day 255:

The Warrior’s Other Side

Gentle sweet

Gone already into the night

Halfway across the void.

So far from you

The Warrior wears his scabbard

On the other hip.

Cadmus closed the diary on the ribbon. The Warrior was the name of the constellation he was gazing at.

Chapter 3: From Out of Nowhere According to the calendar, Cadmus should reach 3a in another two days. Draco.763.3 was starting to loom large on his screen. It was a lovely planet with swirling yellows, browns, reds, and greens created by hurricane-force storms of noxious elements that appeared suddenly and then disappeared just as suddenly. Nobody had ever set foot on 3. They say the gravity would crush a shuttle and everyone inside it like a flimsy tin can.

Lonesome was lying at his feet while Cadmus sat in his command chair at the instrument console. Lonesome was too busy gnawing his right front paw to look up at the screen.

Cadmus noticed a small black dot creeping ever so slowly across 3’s face. He figured that was 3b. When he was a child he had been taught that 3b had been inhabited by humans who had destroyed their moon, turning it into a cinder in the sad eye of 3. That was a long time ago, Cadmus reflected, and there are no records or artifacts to provide any evidence of their existence.

Cadmus fed Lonesome and then pulled up the rocking chair next to the window. He picked up his diary and sat down to gaze out. There were more and more white lines zipping silently across his field of vision as hyper-drive ships dropped out of hyperspace into what they deprecatingly called sub-space. The ships were all sorts of shapes and sizes. He liked looking at them as long as he didn’t have to ride in one.

Suddenly a loud and urgent sounding male voice interrupted the reveries of Cadmus:

“HEY, YOU! WATCH WHERE THE HELL YOU’RE FLYING!! DO YOU REALLY WANT TO BE PLOWED INTO? SPEED IT UP BUDDY OR STAY THE HELL OUT OF MY LANE!”

Cadmus saw a huge white splotch open up in the space-time fabric near his window and a thick white beam of light plunged through it, solidifying into a gigantic space ship hundreds of times the size of his small solar sail ship rushing toward his picture window. He dropped his diary and lunged for the steering controls, knowing he could not possibly change course in time.

“EMERGENCY! EMERGENCY!! IMMINENT LIFE-THREATENING DANGER!!!” the loudspeaker blared repeatedly while the instruments flashed in synch.

A moment before impact, the bow of the huge ship started to rise, exposing its vast hull which filled the picture window.

The loudspeaker went silent and the instruments stopped flashing, returning to their normal displays.

Cadmus broke out in a cold sweat. Lonesome was whimpering. He looked around him and listened for hissing or other tell-tale signs that something was wrong. He heard nothing. He slowly scanned each instrument to see whether all systems were nominal. They seemed to be. He checked his course plot. This was definitely the course he had been given by the flight authorities. He’d copy the logs and send them to the flight authority to find out what or who went wrong.

Lonesome nudged his leg. Cadmus looked down and saw a small yellow puddle near his foot. Cadmus took a paper towel and soaked up the mess. He tossed the wet towel into the disposal and took Lonesome for a walk to calm him down.

After Lonesome returned to his normal care-free self, Cadmus sat back down in his rocker and picked up his diary, opening it to the pages squeezing the ribbon. He wrote:

Day 268: Today Lonesome and I had a pretty close call.

Chapter 4: Draco.763.3 Terminal The Draco.763.3 Terminal slid smoothly into view on the screen in front of Cadmus. Soon he could see all the docked and docking ships. Some of the logos and colors he could identify but there were many that he couldn’t. He wondered where they’d dock his ship.

Cadmus saw the command feed start to display on his running log and the delayed auto-responses of his ship displayed, not that he understood anything because it was all encoded in Base-64.

The ship altered course and maneuvered widely around the orbiting terminal until an extended spoke came into view. The ship slowly approached an empty portal lock next to a very large hyper-drive passenger ship with many long rows of windows, each the size of his picture window. Cadmus could see people filing out of the large ship into the mostly transparent extension spoke toward the terminal hub. That couldn’t be the bully ship that almost ran him over a couple days ago, he said out loud to Lonesome who was gazing out the picture window. They’d probably docked and disembarked already a couple days ago. It still made him mad to think about it. Cadmus decided he’d have that pilot’s license on a platter.

Cadmus could feel a slight shiver as his massive solar sails folded themselves into the side pockets of the ship. The ship glided ever so slowly, turning clockwise to synch with the portal lock, and he felt a small jolt as the ship’s forward motion came to a complete stop. There was a slight relaxation of mechanical joints.

Cadmus took Lonesome for one more walk before disembarking. He went to his hammock to retrieve his backpack, set the controls to power off after he left the ship, and walked out into the passageway with Lonesome at his side and the pack on his back.

In a little while, a tug would come by and release the ship from the portal lock. Then the tug would guide the powered-off ship to an orbiting long-term parking area. A tug would bring it back to a portal lock when it was time for Cadmus to leave 3.

Lonesome didn’t seem to know where to sniff first. There was so much new for him to discover. He tensed up when he saw other animals his size or bigger. People were pretty much friendly to him and he reciprocated in his own way, while others were afraid of him or disgusted. Some of the people were probably robots. Cadmus couldn’t tell the difference, not that it mattered, as long as they behaved themselves, but Lonesome could certainly tell the difference.

The passage tread moved at a decent clip toward the central hub. Cadmus could read and hear the signs with avatars speaking via directed sound waves to each passenger in his own language as he or she passed. This one told him the entry control was straight ahead, Sapiens to the left, Rationals to the right, and robots straight ahead. He saw tall blue humanoids veering to the right, normal looking people and abnormal looking objects moving straight ahead. Cadmus veered left. He hoped the terminal officials wouldn’t give him any trouble over Lonesome.

Cadmus arrived at an available screen. A pleasant looking female Rational avatar greeted him from a screen. “Welcome to the 3 system,” the avatar said.

“Thanks for letting me visit,” Cadmus answered.

“Do you have any baggage,” the avatar asked.

“Just my backpack,” Cadmus said pulling it off his back.

“Please hold it up for object and spectral analysis,” the avatar requested politely. There was a flash. “You may return the pack to your back,” which he did.

“I assume you will be shuttling down to 3a,” the avatar asked.

“Yes,” Cadmus confirmed, “my dagu and I will need shuttle space going down to 3a.” He thought it funny that the Rational avatars and screens speaking a Sapien dialect were programmed by robots.

“You may want to get a change of clothes and boots and a new backpack,” the avatar suggested.

“Why?” he asked wondering what was wrong with the clothes he had on. “I have a change of clothes in my backpack.”

The avatar explained to him that Sapien-made objects would not be accessible to him in the higher order spaces.

He had no clue what she was talking about. “Can you explain that to me in words that a Sapien might understand?” he asked.

“If you would prefer not to walk around in the hotel lobby naked and without your backpack you’d better purchase some higher order dimensional clothes and backpack,” the avatar suggested. “There are a few stores near the shuttle gates.”

“Please prepare yourself for the DNA spectral analysis flash,” the avatar warned gently. After the flash, the avatar asked Cadmus to make sure his dagu remained calm while it was flashed. Cadmus kneeled down and held Lonesome’s head near his heart to calm him with his heartbeat. There was a brief flash. A second or two later Lonesome barked indignantly.

“Your dagu’s protest has been duly noted,” the avatar said joking pleasantly. The avatar’s image was replaced by a message on the screen saying that Lonesome and Cadmus could now proceed to the shuttle area.

Cadmus entered the first clothing store he encountered. He picked out a couple pairs of pants, shirts, socks, and boots that appeared to be his size. He went into a dressing room to change clothes while Lonesome’s proboscis pushed through the curtain. He found a backpack big enough to put his old backpack inside it. At the register, he asked the salesman whether all his purchases were high order dimension accessible. The salesman looked down at Cadmus and at the clothes, shoes, and backpack he was wearing and answered disdainfully, or so it seemed to him, “Certainly.”

When he left the store he read the Destinations screen carefully, looking for Draco.763.3a Sector 225.60, and saw that it would depart in another 20 minutes from portal 72X. They walked into the open area and looked around for Gate 72X.

Cadmus and Lonesome walked through the portal and found two empty seats. Cadmus strapped himself in and then strapped Lonesome in.

Lonesome looked around the shuttle cabin and sniffed the passenger’s face next to him. The passenger unstrapped himself, got up, and found another seat. Cadmus felt embarrassed.

A few moments later a voice over the loudspeaker told the passengers and crew to prepare for departure. The shuttle shoved away from the portal lock gently and the planet below slid out of the window frame as the shuttle maneuvered into position for the short trip to the terraformed moon 3a.

After twenty minutes the blue and green moon came into view. You could see thin wisps of white clouds floating over parts of the moon. Cadmus had read that there was little evidence of industrialization on this moon. The inhabitants, mostly Rationals, left a very small footprint on their natural environment. When the Sapiens asked to build resort hotels and shops to encourage tourism, the native Rationals insisted in no uncertain terms that Sapiens follow Rational guidelines. Sapien businessmen felt that stubborn insistence would discourage investment and tourism, but the opposite turned out to be true. 3a was one of the most popular tourist spots in Draco.763. It was a lovely moon in spite of its popularity, inspiring poets and artists from all over the solar system.

Cadmus felt a slight bumpiness as the shuttle entered the first layers of atmosphere. When they came through the clouds they saw verdant rolling meadows, gentle hills, and valleys with sparkling streams meandering.

The shuttle came down in an open field near a stand of trees whose leaves shimmered in the gentle breeze.

The passengers disembarked. Lonesome relieved himself beside one of the metal ground supports and Cadmus looked around, turning 360 degrees very slowly.

“Where are we?” Cadmus asked one of the flight attendants who happened to be quite a bit taller than him and blue. “Where are the hotels?”

The attendant turned to him and said “you’ll see” smiling.

Chapter 5: Check-in A gentle breeze blew over the meadow and rustled the leaves on the trees in the stand nearby. It was good to breathe air that hadn’t been endlessly recycled, to plant one’s feet firmly on solid ground, and to gaze out to the horizon as far as the eye could see. Cadmus thought Lonesome probably felt the same way he did about it all. The dagu was sniffing the grasses in a lazy eight pattern.

He looked at the attendant. She was rather attractive in an exotic sort of way. She was tall, a good head taller than him, and thin but not too thin. She looked like she could handle herself in a fray if she had to. And then there was the fact that she was blue, cobalt blue, from head to toe, he supposed. She wore a one-piece flight suit, also blue, that didn’t leave much to the imagination.

He glanced at the others. There were a hundred Sapiens and five Rationals milling around the shuttle.

The attendant spoke without moving her lips. She said, “please follow me to that stand of trees over there” where she was pointing. They walked over and entered the small woods where they stood in a clearing of dappled shade. They saw a row of ten chairs locked together. Each chair had a body harness.

The attendant asked the Sapiens how many had visited them before. Twenty-five raised their hands.

Then she asked how many knew how to go perpendicular without the chairs. Five raised their hands. “OK,” she said, “you can go on ahead of the rest of us. The first step is that flat white rock by that tree over there.” She pointed at an inconspicuous flat white rock next to an inconspicuous tree.

The attendant turned to the rest of the passengers and said, “OK, we can take ten at a time.”

Cadmus was watching the first of the five step onto the rock, flip over, and disappear. The second did the same and disappeared! He stopped the attendant and asked her, “what’s happening?”

She said, “please be patient. Everything is OK and I’ll explain it all to you.”

It was disconcerting to him that she spoke without moving her lips.

The attendant asked one of the remaining twenty passengers who had visited before to show Mister “what is your name?” she asked him.

“My name is Cadmus,” he answered.

“To show Cadmus,” she continued again, “how it’s done, but please come back to us as soon as you arrive to prove that no harm came to you; otherwise, he won’t trust us or our chairs.”

After the fifth of the first group of passengers stepped on the rock, flipped over, and disappeared, one of the second group sat down on one of the chairs and strapped himself in while the last group of first-timers watched with heightened interest.

The attendant addressed the third group of passengers, “we usually host an orientation session after everyone checks in, finds their rooms, and has an opportunity to look around, but Cadmus would like to understand what he’s getting into before he takes the plunge.”

All the Sapiens laughed politely.

“Simply put,” she began, “it’s like the hyper-drive ships in which you came.”

“I didn’t come here in a hyper-drive ship,” Cadmus said feeling a bit contrarian. “I came in a solar sail ship.”

Everyone turned to look at him. Even Lonesome looked up at his strange companion.

“I understand,” she said softly. “These are hyper-chairs. You strap yourself in and they reorient you so that you are perpendicular to the three dimensional volume to which you are accustomed into another three-dimensional volume to which you are unaccustomed.”

“I don’t understand,” he said.

“We live in this world on which you are standing,” she explained, “but in more dimensions than you can fathom. Our buildings and environment exist in higher dimensions.”

“Is there something bothering you Cadmus?” the attendant asked sympathetically.

“It’s just that I saved up for this trip,” he said sadly, “and it doesn’t look like I’m going to be able to see or do anything, since you all live in this higher dimension.”

“That’s not exactly what I said,” she smiled. “We live in every dimension that exists, at least the ones about which we are aware. Of course there may be others. We can transport you into higher dimensions but you will only be aware of three at a time, what may be called your local volume.

“You will see one of your fellow passengers sit down in the chair, strap himself to it, and when he is ready the chair will twist forward with the passenger.

“You will perceive him to disappear but he will only disappear from your local volume. The procedure is perfectly safe. In a moment you will see him come back to your volume.”

The Sapien strapped himself into the chair and looked up at the attendant.

“Is everyone ready for the demonstration?” she asked.

“I am,” the strapped-in Sapien said. Cadmus and everyone else had their eyes on him.

“You can go,” she said, “but please come right back.”

He pressed a button on the arm of the chair, his chair flipped forward, and he and the chair were nowhere to be seen.

“When is he supposed to …” Cadmus asked.

Suddenly the chair reappeared with the grinning passenger strapped in.

“… come back?” Cadmus stuttered and then said “oh.”

“Do you feel a little more comfortable now?” the attendant smiled at him.

“What about my dagu, Lonesome,” he asked.

“Not a problem,” she said brightly. “He can sit next to you or on your lap. You should cover his eyes before going perpendicular. You should probably close your own eyes too.”

“I’ll let everyone go before us,” Cadmus said generously. “I wouldn’t want to slow anyone down or spoil anything.”

The second group sat down and flipped out ten at a time. Then the third group sat down ten at a time. The only ones left were Cadmus, Lonesome, and the Rationals. They all sat down. Lonesome jumped onto his companion’s lap facing him. He held the dagu’s head to his chest and put his hand over his open eye. The attendant checked their straps and smiled at him. Cadmus closed his eyes.

When he opened his eyes he saw a beautiful hotel lobby made of glass and light.

The attendant unstrapped them and pointed at a glass counter a few meters away from the chairs. “Do you see the female behind the counter over there?” she asked Cadmus.

He nodded.

“She will help you both check in to your rooms.”

Chapter 6: People Who Live in Glass Hotels Cadmus watched the attendant walk away from him until she blended in with the crowd of noisy Sapiens and quiet Rationals and robots. Some of the robots looked like Sapiens and a few others looked like Rationals, but they acted differently than either of them. He couldn’t put his finger on it. Some of the robots didn’t look like anything he’d ever seen before.

He looked around at the huge glass walls of the hotel lobby. He saw several glass elevator shafts on each wall with glass cabins containing people moving up or down or other directions altogether. Some of the glass walls were transparent, creating the illusion that people on the other side were walking or sitting on air. Some of the glass walls were mirrored, reflecting the opposite mirrored walls to infinity. Some of the walls were enormous glass screens covered with all sorts of information, graphic art, and images.

One wall displayed an image of the female behind the counter whom the attendant had pointed out to him. The female image spoke to him in coherent audio waves saying, “Hello Cadmus. Are you feeling well? Whenever you are ready, you may come to the counter in front of you and I will help you check into your rooms.”

He smiled with embarrassment at the woman behind the counter who was staring at him. “OK, Lonesome, it’s time we got ourselves checked in,” he said to the dagu still sitting on his lap. Lonesome turned around and jumped off. They walked over to the glass counter.

“Hello Cadmus,” the hotel clerk said. “I trust you have had a pleasant trip so far.”

“It was OK,” he answered, “but a little long. We took the scenic route.”

“Do you have any special informational, social, sanitary, dietary, wake-up or sleeping requirements?” she asked pleasantly.

“I suppose your hotel is connected to the infosphere like everyone else?” he asked.

“Yes of course,” she said. “Everywhere you go in the city you will be connected automatically.”

“My dagu likes synthetic meat and will need to relieve himself at night,” Cadmus looked down at Lonesome and scratched the scruff of his neck just behind his ears the way he liked it. The dagu leaned into his hand and his right hind leg began to thump the glass floor.

“Certainly,” the clerk responded. “We’ll have your dagu’s food sent up to your room. There’s a flushable space in your room that will remind him of your back yard in which he can roam around and relieve himself. As soon as he leaves it, it will flush away everything including the smells.

Your room number is 142857. You may take the hyper-vator over there to the 142nd floor. When you get out, just follow the arrows.”

“Do I get a card or something to open the door?” he asked.

“No,” the clerk laughed prettily, “the door has been programmed just for your hand and your dagu’s paw.”

Cadmus turned to look for the hyper-vator she had indicated and turned back to thank her.

“Do you need any help with that backpack,” she asked.

“No thanks,” he said and then to Lonesome, “come on boy.”

“Oh and one more thing,” she called to his back. He stopped and turned around to face her. “Pay attention to the signs. Don’t go anywhere by yourselves that says ‘Rationals only’. You might never find your way back. Make sure you have a Rational to guide you.”

He wondered about her warning. He wasn’t blind, you know. He guessed it was because he couldn’t see beyond his three dimensional volume. In their world he must be considered partially blind. He said, “OK, thanks” and turned back toward the hyper-vator.

Cadmus and Lonesome walked over to the hyper-vator. He entered “142” on the keyboard. In a few moments the glass door opened and they entered the glass cabin. He saw the glass lobby and the female clerk quickly fall away and the glass floors rush past them. Although he knew the cabin was going up, the inertial vector felt like they were moving diagonally or sideways. He didn’t know whether or not he could trust the sensations of his body anymore.

The cabin slowed and stopped. The glass doors opened and they stepped outside into a glass hallway. The walls displayed flashing arrows pointing down the hall to the left. They walked to the end of the hall. The arrows turned the corner to the right. Halfway down the hallway a door was flashing. The door was numbered 142.

Cadmus saw no handle to twist so he put the palm of his hand on the door and it slid open. They entered tentatively. Lonesome sniffed around while his companion explored the rooms.

The walls had running information and data flowing down them, information about everything he could imagine: how to adjust the lighting, translucence of the walls, heating, coolness, wallpaper, softness or hardness of the beds and chairs, the time and alarms, music, news, programs, meals and snacks, events, and guided tours, to name a few. There were avatars of a concierge and hotel clerk among others.

Cadmus explored the rooms of his suite. He threw his backpack onto one of the glass chairs. He half expected something to break but it didn’t. He pushed his hand into the glass chair cushion and it felt unexpectedly soft. He walked over to the glass bed and sat down on it and it was soft too. He’d heard of smart glass before but this was genius glass.

He looked around for Lonesome but couldn’t see him. Then he saw him coming out of a glass box and heard a soft flushing sound. The dagu seemed relieved. Cadmus bent down and looked into the glass box. There was a large garden with grasses and stepping stones, flowers and tall leafy trees, and a lovely gazebo, all this in a glass box not much bigger than the dagu.

He found his own bathing and elimination room. There was a glass shower stall with water spray and dry air nozzles, and soap and shampoo dispensers.

There was a large mirror wall in the bathing room. He looked at himself in the mirror. The image staring back at him was pretty much what he expected to see, but there was something not quite right there.

He decided not to waste time thinking about it.

Cadmus took off his clothes, entered the shower, and turned on the water. The nozzles sprayed pulsing thin streams of water at him from several directions. He shampooed his hair and soaped his body. Then he rinsed himself. He dried himself with the warm air nozzles directing dry air at his body from several directions.

He stepped out of the shower stall, walked out to the chair to retrieve his back pack, and pulled out a clean set of clothes to wear. As he was dressing he looked out the external glass wall at the tall hotels, also glass, the clouds flowing around and between them, and the ghostly pale planet taking up a quarter of the pale blue sky.

Feeling somewhat refreshed, Cadmus looked at the information wall and asked the virtual concierge for a map of the city showing the nearby sites of interest to tourists and any local events around this time of day. The concierge asked him whether he wouldn’t prefer to get something to eat first and then explore the sites. He thought that sounded good so the concierge suggested a restaurant just off the main lobby, and displayed a map with instructions how to get to it.

He picked up his backpack and walked to the door. Lonesome was already there waiting for him. He opened the door and they walked out into the hallway following the arrows back to the hyper-vator.

Chapter 7: A Walk in the Park The flashing arrows turned left, as expected, and when Cadmus and Lonesome turned the corner and saw the door of the hyper-vator flashing exactly where he expected it to be, he didn’t know whether to be amused or irritated. “They must think we’re half-blind fools or clueless children with these flashing arrows and doors,” he thought.

He tapped “0” on the keyboard and before he knew it the hyper-vator door opened for them. They stepped inside the cabin. He had the same funny feeling in his intestines going down but in reverse. The door opened and they stepped out into the lobby.

He spotted the restaurant off to his right. It wasn’t too hard because the sign was flashing. They walked over, looked for a spare table, and sat down, Cadmus on a glass chair and Lonesome under the glass table by his companion’s feet. The surface of his table flashed a slowly rolling menu with today’s fare. He touched a fresh local fruit and vegetable salad, hot bread, and mildly spiced tea on the menu for himself and synthetic meat and water for Lonesome.

A glass cart rolled up to him with the food he’d ordered. He laid the glass dish with meat and the water dish down on the floor beside the dagu and pointed at the food. Lonesome started nibbling at his food and then began to eat more enthusiastically. Cadmus ate his food. It wasn’t bad, but he’d tasted better on 4g, his home moon. He ate his salad and sipped his tea. He finished off with the hot bread dessert and downed the last of his tea.

They left the restaurant and walked to the large glass doors of the hotel. On the way, he glanced at the name of the hotel on the wall behind the check-in counter. It was ” x5 − x4 − x + 1 = (x2 + 1) (x + 1) (x − 1)2 “. Catchy name. He knew it was a quintic function but he had no idea whether it was solvable with real roots or not. He kept on walking without giving it another thought, the tall doors opened before them, and they stepped outside.

Cadmus looked around him. He saw the base of the hotel he’d seen from his room. He followed the parallel lines of its outer walls until they seemed to meet in infinity in the high clouds above.

He looked up and down the street. He knew better than to cross the street not in a crosswalk. He wasn’t thinking of a law officer giving him a ticket so much as some crazy driver coming out of some higher dimension he couldn’t see and running over him.

They started walking down the sidewalk and he noticed a pretty little park situated in the space between his hotel and the next hotel down the street. There were trees with green-gold leaves, exotic red and blue flowers, and lush green-blue grasses waving in the breeze beside inviting wooden benches. He saw a young Rational couple sitting together on one of the benches. They seemed to be immersed in each other, smiling and holding hands. Lonesome pulled toward the entry gate. He probably wanted to sniff something more alive than glass. They approached the gate where Cadmus noticed an unobtrusive sign warning “Rationals Only”. “What could be the risk?” he thought to himself. I can see the whole park. “This is ridiculous,” he persuaded himself. Lonesome looked up at him expectantly. The couple on the bench didn’t seem to be paying attention to them. He opened the gate and stepped inside with the dagu.

Nothing happened with his first step but the second step was … Suddenly he found himself falling, flailing his arms wildly, and someone else inside him was howling insanely. He saw Lonesome standing on the edge of a precipice high above him smaller and smaller cautiously peeking down over the edge at him. The flowers, trees, and bench with the couple sitting at an impossible angle flashed past him. He was falling towards a tall tree at the end of the path. The sky around him was quickly turning dark cobalt and the planet above filled his entire sky. His howling became thinner and softer, more distant. He couldn’t breathe anymore. His eyes felt like they were going to pop out and his lungs were bursting. “Goodbye my heart” were the last words he managed to think.

Finally, mercifully, he blacked out …

Chapter 8: A Stitch in Time Cadmus opened his right eye just a slit. He saw a tall blue woman bending over him. A slice of sharp pain slashed through his chest and stomach. He winced and lost consciousness.

Sometime later, he couldn’t tell how long, he heard a detached voice asking someone, “how do you feel?”

He opened his right eye and then his left. The young Rational couple he had seen at the park was standing near him. He hadn’t realized before how tall they were.

“Where’s … Lonesome?” he asked with obvious concern.

“If you mean the dagu,” the blue man answered, “he’s right here beside your bed.”

Cadmus tried to move his head to the right to see for himself but the pain in his neck was intense. He inched his right hand toward the side of his bed and felt Lonesome’s cool damp nose and warm breath nuzzle his hand.

The words came to him slowly, as if from a great distance. “What … happened … to … me?” he asked.

They looked at each other and the woman softly explained, “You entered a place you shouldn’t have entered, failed to see the hyper-bridge, and fell down a worm hole.”

“We have so many of these holes around here and I’ve told the others we should put doors over them or plug them up,” the young man interrupted. “This one isn’t good for much besides providing a local gravitational lens vector to view the surface of the planet 3 below.”

“Galen,” she stopped her partner, “he is not concerned about that. Turning back to Cadmus she continued, “and you died.”

Cadmus turned pale and stuttered, “Do … you … mean I’m dead?”

“No,” she corrected him, “I said you died. Nothing is forever and nothing is immutable. Death is just another state that organic molecules can transition to or from at the cellular level.”

“I … don’t understand,” Cadmus began to find his voice.

She went on, “Galen and I picked you up from where you fell and carried you back to our cave, as it was closer than the hospital …”

Galen interrupted again, “… and, besides that, Remi here is just as good as any of our hospital doctors.”

Remi went on modestly, “it’s a simple enough procedure. Everything natural in the universe exists symmetrically in all dimensions, the ones you know about and can sense as well as all the higher dimensions. Only Sapien-made things are three dimensional because you can’t make what you don’t know, but your natural Sapien bodies are all-dimensional.”

“I still don’t follow you,” Cadmus confessed. “I don’t know much about this higher dimensional stuff. Most of us just know how to use the hyper-space vectors that you and the robots created. None of us have the technology to build this.”

Remi said, “The fact is you were in pretty bad shape when we found you. We had to take you home, reprint some of your internal organs, get your cells to stop dying off and start living again, and insert a codec or two and a few transducers … oh, yes, and stitch up the rupture in your local temporal dimensions.”

“I thought of it,” Galen said proudly.

“Sounds really simple,” Cadmus said somewhat sarcastically.

Remi smiled at Cadmus. “I was joking about stitching up your time. There’s no such thing as time. So how do you feel?” she asked once more.

“Like I fell off a cliff,” he smiled back. “I guess Lonesome and I will pay better attention to the signs from now on. What about the hotel?” he asked.

Galen answered, “We called them, told them what had happened, and that you would be staying with us until you felt better, Cadmus.”

“Would you prefer us to take you to a hospital?” Remi asked. “You and your dagu are welcome to stay with us until you recover.”

Cadmus wasn’t really sure what he should do under the circumstances. Should he politely refuse them? On the other hand, it might be an interesting experience in his otherwise inconsequential life. “If it’s really not too much trouble,” he tried to remember to smile, “I’d prefer to stay with you here until I can get back on my feet and get around a little.”

Chapter 9: Path to Recovery Time, rather the illusion of it, lapped at the shores of higher order space, coming tantalizingly close but never quite crossing the threshold. There were no clocks on the walls of his room. Cadmus had forgotten to buy a hyper-dimensional watch at the store where he bought his new clothes and backpack on the orbiting terminal above 3. He was probably still wearing his old 3-D watch but he couldn’t see it or feel it. Time passed or it didn’t pass. He had no way of knowing for sure.

Lonesome seemed to get along just fine with Galen. He took the dagu with him on long walks. Remi put his favorite synthetic meat in a bowl for him to eat every day. They also brought Cadmus his meals and tea when he was strong enough to sit up in bed.

One day the morning sunlight warmed his eyelids and when he opened them he felt strong enough to try getting up without calling for help. He sat up, swung his legs slowly over the side of his bed onto the cool glass floor. He stood up and managed to lock his knees against the wobbliness. He took a few steps toward the doorway, his arms held out at his sides trying to keep his balance. Negotiating the doorway, he turned left and walked slowly down the hallway with his hand sliding along the glass wall. He came to another open doorway and glanced in.

Remi was standing in front of a mirror brushing her long thick blue hair, her naked body wet. Cadmus snapped his eyes around in front of him and continued walking forward, the wobbliness in his knees nearly uncontrollable. He had seen her back and front, and she just kept on brushing her hair. He almost fainted.

He reached another open doorway and saw that it opened onto a kitchen. Cadmus sat down at the table and looked around him. There was no clock in this room either.

Remi walked into the kitchen dressed in her usual one-piece suit, her hair tied in a simple knot from which the rest of it flowed loosely down her back.

There was no way in God’s galaxy that she had not seen him looking at her when he had passed her bedroom in the hallway and yet she behaved as though nothing had happened. “Would you care for some tea?” she asked.

“Yes please,” he said. He watched her run the water into a kettle, place the kettle on a metal square until it began to whistle. Then she spooned some tea leaves from a jar into two glass cups and poured the steaming water into the cups, turning the water brownish green and dissolving the leaves. Cadmus made a mental note on how to make oneself tea in this dimension for future reference. It seemed so quaint but the tea tasted good. She sipped her tea too.

“May I ask you a question?” he broke the silence after a while.

“Certainly,” she answered looking into his eyes.

“How do you know enough about my anatomy to operate on me?”

“We are not so different, you and I. We have the same anatomy as you, except that our skin and hair are blue and we lack amygdalae.”

“I guess you know more about my anatomy than I do. What are my amygdalae for?”

“They are connected to your sensory systems, provide your basic emotional responses, and aggregate and index your long-term memories.”

“Do we need them?”

“Apparently you do.”

“How do you get along without them?”

“Our sensory systems connect directly to our prefrontal cortex, which aggregates and indexes our long- and short-term memories. We have emotions too, but they are processed in our prefrontal cortex.”

“Is that what makes you so smart?”

“I don’t think it makes us smarter than you but it does make us more rational, our motor responses are thirty percent faster than yours, and we are able to see things you can’t see.”

“Like higher order dimensions?”

“Yes, like those.”

“Why is that?”

“Preconceived structures in your brains prevent you from seeing all there is.”

There was a soft swishing sound from the hallway and Lonesome came bounding into the kitchen. He nuzzled Cadmus affectionately and stood up to him with his front paws on his shoulders. Galen walked into the kitchen a few moments later, saying “I’m glad to see you up and about.”

Cadmus swallowed his guilt about seeing Remi naked and asked Galen, “Where did you and Lonesome go?”

“Lonesome led the way. You’ll have to ask him. Anyway you’re welcome to join us whenever you’re up to it.”

Galen ran some water into the kettle, made himself a cup of tea, and sat down at the table with Remi and Cadmus while Lonesome lay at his companion’s feet.

Chapter 10: Succubus Kalyra stood naked in front of the mirror of their bedroom brushing her thick long black hair while he lay on their bed watching her intently. He loved when she would do that just before she’d lay down next to him. He wondered whether there was a mathematical function that expressed the exquisiteness of her geometry. Cadmus shivered in anticipation. She would brush slowly, repeatedly, until the soft light danced and shimmered in the blackness of her hair. When she was done she put the brush in its place on the table in front of the mirror and turned around to face him. He looked up at her dark brown eyes, the pronounced cheek bones, and her inviting lips puckered up in a kiss. He couldn’t breathe, she was so proudly beautiful. He made a space for her to lie down. She turned off the light and lay down beside him carefully, tentatively. He felt the full and warm volume of her breasts against his chest. He kissed her mouth, then her cheeks, and then her eye lids, her ear lobes, and neck. He kissed her breasts, first one and then the other. He kissed her soft belly. The room was now bathed in some sort of ambient light. Her skin was so blue it was almost black. Kaly’s face had changed into Remi’s face. When he entered her they were so entangled, legs and legs, arms and arms, that he had no sense of where his body ended and hers began, that he was inside her and she was inside him, that he was obliterated in an explosion of …

He woke up. He felt the wetness between his legs. Lonesome was snoring in his sleep on the floor beside his bed. He got up and walked into the shower to clean himself and clear his head of the dream that made him wince in guilt when he remembered it. Is this how I repay the generosity of my hosts? He thought to himself. Is this how I honor Kaly’s memory?

Cadmus tried to shake the thoughts and memories from his head. He dried himself and dressed.

He walked out of the room, keeping his eyes straight ahead of him until he reached the kitchen. Galen was sitting at the table sipping a cup of tea and reading the morning news as it flashed across the table surface. He looked up and saw Cadmus standing there.

“Would you like a cup tea?” he asked.

“Yes, that would be nice.”

“Would you like some fruit with that? It is fresh from our garden and will just take a moment to prepare.”

“I’d like that as well, thank you.”

Cadmus ate and sipped his tea while Galen continued reading the news.

Lonesome came into the kitchen, walked over to his food bowl, and began nibbling at it. Then he licked at the water bowl.

When Cadmus had finished his tea and fruit, Galen asked him whether he felt up for a walk with Lonesome and him. He said yes, he’d enjoy that.

They walked down the path to where the steps led down the valley into the fields. The sky above them was dark blue almost to the point of being violet. The sun was warm but the air was cool and refreshing in the shade of the orchard they were walking through.

Galen broke the silence. “Don’t feel so guilty about that dream you had last night. We don’t have doors in any of the rooms and we’re not very modest when we are at home. Remi is beautiful, isn’t she?”

“How do you know what I dreamt?” Cadmus asked. His knees began to shake. “Do you know my thoughts?”

“As a matter of fact, yes,” he laughed. “How do you think we’ve been communicating together? We project our thoughts into your mind and you think of how you want to respond and speak. We sense all they ways you think of responding and hear what you decide to say.”

“I feel so embarrassed about what I dreamt of Remi.”

“You can’t direct your thoughts any more than you might put a rope around the wind. Your mind will think whatever is possible for you to think. Consciousness is quantum after all. It’s what you do about your thoughts that is important.”

Lonesome sniffed a bush beside the path and lifted his hind leg to release his water.

“Remi reminded me of my wife, Kaly, I guess.”

“I know.”

Chapter 11: Possibly Inevitable They went on many walks together over the coming days and weeks, sometimes with Galen and sometimes with Remi. Lonesome would lead the way with his meandering path. Cadmus felt like the paths and sites around their cave, the hills, and valleys were becoming more and more familiar to him, but he was warned that the local topology could change without warning and his sense of space and time couldn’t deal with it.

He took their word for it and let them walk him around like a blind man being helped across a busy street. Remi had told him that all of his senses were limited, not just his vision. His perceptors, that was what she called his eyes, ears, tactiles, taste buds, and olefactors, were capable of perceiving in all dimensions but the higher order conceptors were only capable of creating a worldview of three spatial dimensions and a linear temporal dimension. Those were Remi’s words as he remembered them afterwards. He might have gotten some of the terminology mixed up but he thought he understood the idea.

“How do you and Galen see things?” Cadmus asked Remi one day in the kitchen over a cup of tea.

“Would you be able to explain what it’s like to see color to someone who has never seen color before?” she asked. “Or what it’s like to see at all for someone who has never seen? Or to imagine the second-order spaces of a hypercube perpendicular to its first-order space?”

“You lost me at the last example.”

“I’ll try to explain it to you with an analogy more familiar to you.”

“This ought to be good,” Galen walked into the kitchen, poured himself a cup of tea, and sat down at the table.

“When we focus our conceptors on a particular volume of space we conceive it like you do, but when we unfocus we conceive it differently.”

“How so?” Cadmus asked. When he unfocused, things just got blurry.

“Our unfocused conception allows us to see the inside of you like we and you see the outside of each other. We see where you’ve been and who you were all the way to the beginning of you and where you’ll be and who you’ll be all the way to your end. We hear everything you think and say, everything you’ve thought and said, and everything you’ll think and say.”

“But how do you know what I’m going to say or think before I know it?” he asked.

“Because that is how you think and speak, all at once. That is how you act, all at once. You think everything happens in linear time, one thing at a time. That’s your worldview.”

“So what is your worldview?”

“Everything that is possible is inevitable and everything that exists existed since the beginning and will exist until the end.”

Cadmus couldn’t really understand how a worldview like that was possible, but Remi’s words somehow gave him comfort that Kaly and Lonesome might be around in one form or another until the end of the universe. Maybe Cadmus too.

Chapter 12: Departure Lonesome was lying in the corner of his room, conserving his energy, while Cadmus was getting the few contents of his backpack together for the trip back home. He had enjoyed his recuperation with Remi and Galen, it had been most interesting, but now he was ready to return to Kaly’s memories on his home moon of 4g, a little wiser but also a little humbler about what he knew and what he didn’t know.

“We called ahead at your hotel to tell them you’d be checking out today. They said you’d only be charged for the one day,” Remi said when Cadmus walked into the kitchen with his backpack. “We also called the terminal to let them know you’d be departing and that you’d need a tug to retrieve your ship from long-term parking.”

“Thanks Remi,” he said.

“Do you want anything to eat or drink before you go,” Galen asked.

“No.”

“We’re just a few moments’ walk from the garden and the hotel.”

Cadmus whistled to Lonesome who came bounding into the kitchen looking for his water bowl.

They left the cave and strolled up the path to the stand of trees on the ledge overlooking the valley and backing into the public garden between the two hotels. Cadmus never realized just how close the cave had been to the garden and hotels. Perhaps their cave had been in a higher—order dimension and he hadn’t been aware of it.

They stopped at the trees and looked out over the valley below. They felt a pleasant breeze wend through their clothing.

“I almost forgot to ask you both about a dark moon I passed on my way into the 3 system, 3b I think,” Cadmus broke the silence among them. “Can you tell me any more about it than the little I remember from what we were taught in our schools?”

“What were you taught?”

“That 3b had been inhabited by humans who had destroyed their moon, turning it into a cinder and that there were no artifacts or evidence of their existence.”

“Actually there were.”

“What do you mean?”

“We were there,” Remi answered. “Well, not Galen and I. My great grandparents, Lem and Yani, were born there.” Remi told Cadmus about Lem’s and Yani’s Sapien parents, about the mutation, caused by working in the cobalt mines, that in turn caused their amygdalae to disappear and their neurons to reroute directly into their prefrontal cortexes. The mutation also caused their skins to turn blue.

The Sapiens on 3b believed the blue babies were abominations in the eyes of their god and killed all the ones they could get their hands on. A few Sapien parents, like Evanor and Thort, Lem’s parents, and Kivo and Thana, Yani’s parents, tried to protect their children from the hatred of the others. As it turned out, the children had certain attributes that proved advantageous so that the children ended up protecting their parents.

“The Sapiens called us Rats, for Rationals,” Remi continued. “My great grandmother, Yani, called the Sapiens Saps, probably a childish means of dealing with their hateful name calling, but the names caught on and stuck.

The Rationals tried to get away from the Sapiens, made their way to an uncharted area of 3b, and created a refuge for themselves in a fertile area with many natural defenses. The Sapiens organized an army with rifles, canons, and balloons and tried their best to exterminate the Rationals.

“After failing to crush us and losing many soldiers in the process,” Remi said, “they developed a cobalt bomb and shot it from a magnetic canon into the Refuge.”

Lem and the rest of the Rationals at the refuge saw it coming long before it was even built and they built a hyper-space tunnel between their Refuge on 3b and the unpopulated moon of 3a. It was rather primitive but effective. By the time the bomb was launched at the Refuge, the last Rational had left 3b, sealing the tunnel door shut.

As the Rationals had predicted or seen depending on who was telling the story, the cobalt bomb set off a chain reaction of explosions that burnt the atmosphere and the surface of 3b, along with all the Sapiens.

“So apparently you and I have common roots,” Cadmus said after a while. “Do either of you have any idea where our common species came from?”

Galen had been quiet all this time but now he spoke up. “That’s a bit of a problem. As you might well know, Sapiens weren’t very reliable historians so much of the history predating the earliest Church records was attributed to stories and myths, but it is rumored that the Sapiens were deposited in this part of the Draco galaxy by robots who brought them along with them from a planet called Earth2 somewhere in the Andromeda galaxy. The robots called them humans. The robots kept very good records but, unfortunately, they were written in a language called ML1, which nobody living today can decipher.”

Cadmus asked, “What happened to the robots?”

“They were all destroyed by some sort of digital virus,” Galen answered.

“And if there was an Earth2, what happened to Earth?”

“There may or may not have been a planet called Earth in a galaxy called the Milky Way that collided with Andromeda a long time ago,” Galen suggested.

Cadmus had no more questions he wanted to ask.

They walked through the park, Lonesome getting in some last-minute sniffing. Remi held his arm as they negotiated the hyper-bridge over the chasm near the entrance gate.

At the hotel entrance, Cadmus hugged Galen and Remi, and thanked them for saving his life and taking such good care of Lonesome and him. They wished him a safe journey back home. He turned to the door but then something made him stop and turn around quickly, but they were gone already.

He walked through the doors with Lonesome up to the desk.

“I trust your time with us was interesting,” the clerk at the check-out counter asked.

“Yes,” he replied, “it certainly was.”

“Please take your seats in those chairs over there and make sure to buckle your seatbelts and those of your dagu,” she said as though he were an experienced interdimensional traveler. “When you are ready, just press the button on your arm rest.”

After buckling Lonesome into his chair and then buckling himself in, he pressed the button, closing his eyes. Cadmus felt his body lurching backward.

He opened his eyes and saw the shuttle through the trees. He unbuckled himself and then Lonesome who jumped down and started barking at a flutterby that had landed on his nose.

They walked through the trees toward the shuttle. An attendant asked him whether he had a reservation for the flight to the terminal.

Cadmus said yes he thought so and fumbled around in his backpack looking for the papers.

“Don’t worry sir,” the attendant said kindly, “somebody called ahead and made arrangements for you both.”

Cadmus thanked her and they climbed into the shuttle, taking their seats. He checked to make sure there were no passengers sitting next to Lonesome. He fastened his dagu’s seatbelt and then his own, looking around the shuttle cabin and then looked at each of the safety signs. Some were written in Draco.763 Standard and some were written in what he assumed to be ML1. They all had MASER audio streams directed at anyone who looked directly at a sign. They’d get their safety message to you one way or another.

The steps retracted back up into the shuttle underside and locked down. There was a faint whistle of air and a sense of pressure against his eardrums. A female voice told the passengers the shuttle would be taking off momentarily.

Lonesome barked twice but before Cadmus could shush him, the shuttle’s engines began their own roaring and the shuttle lifted above the tree line. The ground beneath slowly became a lush green quilt of beauty interspersed by wisps of clouds. Soon the blue canopy of 3a darkened into a black night studded with stars. He looked out the window and saw the lovely blue-green moon roll to the side. A small point became brighter and larger, turning slowly into the Draco.763.3 Terminal.

The shuttle adjusted attitude and approached its assigned docking port. He barely felt the press-relax-lock between the shuttle and the Terminal port. A few moments later there was a sound of air exchanged between the shuttle and the Terminal port and then the portal door opened. The Terminal air smelled slightly stale. He frowned without thinking about it and unlocked his seatbelt and that of Lonesome who jumped off his seat and waited for Cadmus to follow him.

They came out through Gate 138A and followed the arrows as did their fellow shuttle passengers and the merging passengers from other shuttles arriving from other sectors on 3a.

Cadmus followed the arrow to the long-term parking pick-up spoke. When he arrived, he stopped in front of a vacant screen. A pleasant looking Rational avatar appeared on the screen and asked how she could be of assistance.

“I want to go back home to Draco.763.4g. I need my ship.”

“Please prepare for DNA spectral analysis flash identification.”

After the flash the avatar told him his ship was waiting for him at Gate 28M. He thanked the avatar who smiled and then the screen was blank again. He followed the arrows to Gate 28M.

When Cadmus and Lonesome arrived at the gate he was flashed again. The gate portal opened and they stepped into their ship, humble but home for the next two hundred and seventy days. Lonesome ran to his favorite corner beside the rocking chair.

He checked the consoles and saw that his ship had been topped up and restocked, even Lonesome’s favorite synthetic meats.

The rocker and folding table were where he left them, next to the picture window. The calendar and checklist were still taped to the wall. Most importantly the photo of Kaly was still there on the window ledge. He picked it up, lost in thought, still married to her memory, in spite of his imaginary transgression during the shock of seeing Remi naked that one time.

He put the photograph back on the window ledge. He walked over to the consoles, sat down, and clicked the engine warm-up sequence. The mechanical joints tensed up and the portal lock released them. The ship floated back and the engines whirred with a soft throbbing sound. The ship was now moving steadily backward in a straight line. The Terminal moved away, still looming large in front of them, but a little less so than before.

When the ship had reached a safe distance from the Terminal, it turned away slowly, and then stopped, waiting for permission to proceed. After a few moments, the command feed started to display on the running log and the ship’s auto-response answered back.

His ship began to move, slowly at first, then picking up speed, maneuvering around the terminal until it had a clear vector to his home moon, Draco.763.4, at which point it adjusted attitude once more.

He felt the expected mechanical shiver of his craft as the massive solar sails unfolded and spread out to catch the faint radiation from Draco.763. The engines quieted down somewhat.

Cadmus settled down for the long trip home. He looked at his checklist to check what there was to do.

Lonesome was snoring beside him.

#shortstory #sciencefiction #cadmus

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